Your Tired Eyes
by stilted breath
Summary: Being a teenager with a hard father and an alcoholic mother can be tough. Life is beyond hard for Tyler Lockwood. And it doesn't help that the only place he can find solace is in the arms of Jeremy Gilbert. Tyler/Jeremy. Jyler. Slash.
1. Mutual Interests

Your Tired Eyes  
**Chapter One: **Mutual Interests

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

It started over a month ago. We were both angry. At least, I know I was. Angry at the world. Angry because Vicki was with Tyler _fucking_ Lockwood, of all people. But we would've never done what we had done if it wasn't for the rather dodgy combinations of drugs and alcohol that were flowing through our veins that night. I was at one of those stupid high school parties, the kind that kids only go to get high, stoned, and laid.

I was just about ready to pass out on some anonymous bed and wake up several hours later to a hangover. I stumbled into what I believed to be an empty room, and flicked the light on, to see Tyler Lockwood, sitting in the corner of the room, rather obviously high, with his head buried in his arms; he looked up, his eyes bloodshot, "Gilbert? What the fuck are you doing here?"

Those are pretty much the only words I remember from the whole night. I can pretty much guess the rest. I come up with some clever retort, Tyler tells me to fuck off, I tell him to make me.

Then he stands up, looking rather unsteady on his feet, and advances towards me, his fists closing around the collar of my shirt, slamming me against the wall. He holds his position, glaring at me. As I brace myself for a punch in the face, I get something completely different.

Tyler kisses me. And at first I just stare at him. Stare him because this is insane, and even in my drugged up state I can hear a little voice in the back of my head telling me so. But this doesn't stop me – or him, from continuing this insanity. Ripping each others clothes off haphazardly and ending up having sex.

It doesn't end here, either.

We wake up in the morning, next to each other, and we don't say anything, we get dressed and we walk away because I can't stop seeing flashes of last night in my head, and _goddammit_ it's driving me crazy. What we didn't realize then was that _we couldn't just walk away._

Approximately two days later I get a text from Lockwood – god only knows where he got my number, probably filched it from Vick's cell – the text has few words in it '_Meet me Secret Keeper, Room 265, 6:00, Ty."_

The Secret Keeper is a rather sketchy motel off towards the trashier side of town. But this doesn't make me any less willing to run there, in the rain.

The woman at the front desk doesn't even notice me. She's flipping through the pages of the latest _Vogue_, and sipping Starbucks Coffee. I run up two flights of stairs, and then find Room 265 at the end of the hall. Knocking unsteadily, my heart beats uncontrollably fast.

Tyler answers within a matter of seconds, opening the door, and pulling me in. Locking the door behind me, he pushed my back against it and catches my lips in his. We say nothing.

It doesn't end here, either.

**Four Weeks Later**

Vicki was gone. My parents were dead. Elena was too caught up in her own drama to even chastise me anymore. Not that I needed it. I had actually gotten increasingly better over the past weeks, and had even signed up for an elective once second marking term came around.

Art class was that elective. Elective; e-leck-tiv; synonymous to voluntary. This is why I wondered what in the world Tyler Lockwood would be doing in such a class. Art was something I saw as classy, elegant, and Lockwood was anything but. This was an assumption, and though I was completely and thoroughly against assumptions, and prejudgments I would always find a way to let that slip my mind while I was mentally bashing him. The way I saw it, there wasn't one redeeming quality in his body.

Well, other than his _actual_ body, but that's not the point.

And yet here he was. In art class, of all places. Glaring at me, his eyes hadn't moved away from my face for even a second since he noticed me. But I wasn't here for a staring contest; I focused on a charcoal drawing of a gazelle that was a few feet towards the left of his head. As the last few kids filed in, I noticed the girl who sat directly next to me, fiddling with her pencil. Short, blond, almost white hair hung over her face, as she stared downcast.

"Well, it's lovely to see so many new faces in here," Ms. Jasper, the middle-aged art teacher said, as she smoothed the creases of her flowered dress. "And we actually have boys this year, go figure."

I suddenly realized that males were scarce in the room and looked around in search of others. There were four, including Lockwood and I. I recognized the scrawny pale-auburn haired boy from my world history class, and the other one, a strikingly pale, almost albino boy, most possibly a freshmen who got thrown into art class by accident.

Ms. Jasper's voice was delicate and soft, yet booming, I noticed, as she continued talking, "So, our first assignment will be portraits. Not of ourselves, that's far too cliché. No, you will be drawing one another -," this was met with many groans and 'I can't draw's, which Ms. Jasper ignored, "We'll finish the rough draft two days from now, and then start on the masterpiece. And don't forget to add a personal touch. Any questions?"

There were a few along the lines of 'is-this-a-test?' and 'how-much-of-our-final-grade-is-this?' After answering these she said, "And I'll be picking your subjects." This announcement was also met with an outcry of dissatisfied groans, which I joined in on as the names were ticked off. "Karalynn and Joseph, Samantha and Britney, Cheyenne and Maria, Tyler and Jeremy -."

"_What_?" Tyler asked the incredulity high in his voice.

"Tyler and Jeremy," Ms. Jasper repeated, enunciating each syllable, "Is there a problem?"

"No. Sorry," Tyler replied, shooting a glare in my direction.

As everyone broken into groups to go sit next to whoever they had been assigned Tyler sat, stoic. With a sigh, I grabbed my sketchbook and bag and walked over to his table, taking the seat opposite to him. "Kind of hard to draw you from there," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I was managing just fine."

I rolled my eyes, "Why are you even here?"

He shrugged, "What's it to you?"

"Just curious."

"And what's up with that?"

"What?"

"The whole nice guy act you've had on for the last two weeks." Then in an undertone, "So we've messing around. Doesn't change anything. Doesn't change how we feel about each other." I'm slightly taken aback because I was beginning to wonder when Tyler would actually acknowledge what we'd been doing.

"You'd rather I hate you?"

"It's a lot more fun, isn't it?"

"Fine. Douchebag."

Tyler smirked.

We went on in silence for several minutes before I muttered something under my breath. Tyler looked up, "You got something to say?"

"Cheekbones."

He scoffed, and raised an eyebrow, "Why…?"

"They're…difficult, to draw."

"You're complaining? Your hair looks likes overgrown grass."

"Thanks. That's nice."

Tyler rolled his eyes, "I reserve the right to _be_ a douchebag, Gilbert."

"Likewise, Lockwood."

He smirked, and then went back to sketching.

This was going to be one hell of a term.

**Tyler P.O.V.**

I guess you could say I was upset. Only 'upset' is a pansy word according to good old dad, so I guess I was pissed off. And honestly, I probably wouldn't have cared less about Jeremy's finished rough sketch of me if it wasn't for my dad. It was impossible to leave the house without being criticized.

It was early that morning when the criticism began, just as I was finishing off my usual three minute breakfast before bolting to school. My father looked down at me, disdainfully, "How are you going to keep your spot on the football team if you insist on eating like a fourteen year old anorexic girl?"

"I manage."

He snorted, "You are Tyler Lockwood. You are the mayor's son. You're not supposed to 'manage', you're supposed to excel. Got it?"

"Yeah. Sure thing."

"_'Yeah, sure thing_,'' Dad mimicked, "Then please explain this to me," he said shoving my three-week-old report card at me for the sixth time that week. "A 2.7. A 2.7 grade point average. The mayor's son."

"I can still get into a state college. My extracurricular -."

"I don't give a _damn_ how many extracurriculars you have. I did football in high school, and I graduated with a 3.7."

"Well, we can't _all_ be perfect, Dad," I said downing the rest of my orange juice.

"Don't you talk to me in that tone, Tyler. I did not raise you that way."

_Yeah, because you didn't bother raising me at all._" I have to get to school," I said, getting up.

Dad grabbed me, both hands gripping my arms, he slammed against the wall, "Damn right you do. And you better get yourself together, Ty. I'm not dealing with this behavior of yours anymore. Got it?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Got it," I replied, avoiding his eyes.

"Get the hell out of here," he said, giving me a push in the direction of the door.

If my dad gets this hung up over a B- average I wonder what he would think if he found out I was fucking Jeremy Gilbert. I assume it would start with disinheritance.

**Later**

Which is why, by the time fourth period Art Education came around I was about ready to rip someone's arms off, and it just so happened that Jeremy was conveniently located opposite to me, his sketch pad faced down, he stared off into the distance, "Shouldn't you be doing something?" I asked, the flicker of annoyance in my voice obvious.

He shrugged, "I finished last night."

"How?"

"Your facebook page. You're a bit of a camwhore."

"A little obsessed with me, aren't you?" I asked. He scoffed, "Let's see it then," I said.

Jeremy looked uneasy, "Go ahead," he said finally.

I flipped over a few pages of mystical creatures, until I reached the sketch of me. There was nothing particularly wrong with it; it was a black and white sketch, very precisely done, right down to the smug grin I often had on my face. What I presumed to be crown was above my head, with the words 'King Jock' engraved in it.

It would be a lie to say that I didn't know why I reacted to this the way I did. Maybe I was tired of being King Jock or maybe because I was tired of people assuming things or maybe it was because my father had hit a nerve this morning or maybe it was just the smirk that was pasted on Jeremy's face as I stared at it, wondering if it would be best to punch him in the face or just walk away.

I chose the latter, ignoring Ms. Jasper's lecturing, as I continued to stalk off.

**Author's Note**

Hope you liked this! Please review if you want me to update ;)


	2. Almost Friends

_Your Tired Eyes_  
**Chapter Two: **Almost Friends

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

Tyler Lockwood is a jerk. He's a jerk, and he knows it and he's done more jerk things to me than I care to remember, So why was it that I couldn't help but feel like I had victimized him? I didn't think he'd take it too hard. I didn't think he'd care at all. Usually my insults to Lockwood only resulted in him threatening to kick my ass. I stared at the spot where he'd sat for a while, and then noticed he'd left his sketchpad. Sighing, I reached for it . I'd take it to him, and apologize the next time I saw him. Even though it was the last thing he deserved.

As it was, I ran into him - or rather his voice as I walking to my locker after school. The school was mostly abandoned by then, and Tyler's voice, angry and reproachful echoed off the walls, as he yelled at the secretary. I halted next to the door to hear him more clearly, " - don't care! I just want out of the damn class, can you do that? Or do you need my father to come and talk to you about it?"

"Maybe if I knew why you want of the class...," the secretary said calmly.

"I didn't - I didn't sign up for it. I can't draw, or whatever."

"Yeah he can, he's _really_ good." I said walking in, one hand holding out his sketchpad,

Tyler snatched it out of my hand, "I want _out_."

"I'm sorry but all the other classes are filled, the study halls too. You'll need a parent to come talk to the headmaster if you really want to transfer out of the class."

"Yeah. Whatever," Tyler said, the anger still visible in his voice. With that he stalked out of the room, cursing under his breath.

I caught up with him, "Get lost, Gilbert."

"What's your problem? I never really pegged you as the kind of guy who has a hissy fit over being called 'King Jock'."

"That's because you don't know me, Gilbert," Tyler said turning around so that he faced me. "You don't _know_ me."

And with that he sauntered down the empty hallway. I watched him until he disappeared around the corner.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

I got home early. This was because I had learned that if I got home early enough my father would show up a good hour afterward and not realize I was actually there until several hours later. On many occasions I was unfortunate enough to hear his sexcapades with his secretary - which you know, is just a regular thing in my life. I'd inform my mother, but it seemed that she knew, and didn't plan doing anything about it. My family was messed up. Most are.

Collapsing on my bed, I flipped through the pages of my sketchpad, getting ready to mutilate Gilbert's picture. Above it he had sketched in the word 'Jerk'. I guess it was his way of apologizing.

I was oddly comforted.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

Tyler walked into art class six minutes late the next day. After which he had a four minute conversation with Ms. Jasper. After which he took the seat opposite to mine, rather than his regular one. "If you ever," he paused to flip through his sketchbook, "Deface another one of my pictures, I will kick your ass."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, Lockwood. Whatever."

He smirked, "Hey - just because we don't hate eachother, at the moment, doesn't change what I said earlier. We're just fooling around. It doesn't mean anything, and if you tell anyone I will break your face."

"I think that's impossible."

As Tyler was about to comment on my smart-aleck reply Astrid, the flaxen-haired girl who had sat next to me during our first class took her seat. Tyler looked annoyed, but said, "Talk to you later, Gilbert."

Astrid looked over at me, "I didn't know you two were friends."

I winced, "It's...complicated."

She smirked, "I'll bet, everyone saw you guys, you know, fighting at the football game. That's nice though. Giving him the benefit of the doubt."

I scoffed, "He's...Lockwood's just a little messed up. We all are I guess."

"You don't have to sugar-coat you know," she said matter-of-factly, "If you want a new partner, I'm sure Ms. Jasper will give you one. We could draw each other."

I stared at her for a moment, wondering if she was hitting on me, (I was pretty sure she was hitting on me), before saying, "Thanks, but I think I'll stick with him."

-

Tyler asked me to come over to his house after-school so that we could start on our final drafts of each others' portraits. This was very spur-of-the-moment for him, and as you can imagine, surprising to me. Just a few days ago he had been ignoring my existence, and now, he I was. In his bedroom.

In his bedroom in a mostly empty mansion. This wasn't going to end well.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

We sat across from each other on the floor, his back against my closet, mine against my bed. "Still think my cheekbones are hard to draw?" I mocked, looking up at him.

"Still undressing me with your eyes?" he countered.

"I don't need my eyes for that," I replied.

"I'm not that easy, Lockwood," he said, rolling his eyes. (He rolled his eyes a lot).

"Ugh, please stop calling me that."

"I thought that was our _thing_," Jeremy said leaning over the rather large piece of paper Ms. Jasper had given each of us.

"Mayor Lockwood's son. That has been my name since birth, and I'm tired of being 'Lockwood'. My name's Tyler."

"_My_ name's Jeremy."

"Yeah. Yeah it is." I sat in silence for a moment, before heaving a sigh and saying, "Listen, I'm -," I looked upwards avoiding his glance, "I'm sorry about everyth -,"

"Don't," Jeremy said, a cynical look on his face, "Lock - Tyler," he corrected, "It won't mean anything. Apologies aren't about the person you're apologizing to. They're about you, losing that guilt on your shoulders. And I think I'm going to let you carry it for a bit longer."

I scoffed, "Now who's the douchebag?"

He smirked, and then said, "You guys have any soda around here?"

"Downstairs. Fridge, help yourself."

Jeremy nodded, stood up, and made his way down the staircase. As I heard the fridge door creak, I suddenly has a thought, one that had little to do with art, soda, or apologies. Walking down the stairs swiftly, I caught Jeremy as he was just opening a coke, "Hey, I was jus-,"

I interrupted him, pushing him back against the refrigerator, and causing a small amount of soda to spill on the kitchen tile, "Dude - what the hell?" Jeremy asked. Before he could mutter another sentence of vague protest I pressed my lips against his, one hand clutching his slightly-too-long-hair. It bothered me than he was taller than I was, by a good few inches. Jeremy, seeming to be taken over by emotion, or lust, at the very least, dropped the soda. I could hear it fizzing along the floor my father had paid eighteen thousand dollars to re-tile a few months back. Both his hands clutching me, he let out an involuntary moan, followed by a string of swear words. "When's your dad coming home?" he managed to muster.

"Don't know," I replied, pulling his tee shirt over his head, "Don't _care_." I however, soon learned, that the old saying '_Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear,_' is also a rather true one, because as I was trailing kisses along Jeremy's collar bone, I heard his car beep in the distance, signifying that it had been locked, and that the devil was indeed home. "_Fuck,_" I swore loudly, "Fuckfuckf_uck_. Put - put your shirt on - I'll clean the floor."

Jeremy hurriedly shoved his tee shirt over his head, "Talk about bad timing," he muttered before leaning down, paper towels in hand.

Dad walked in then, "Tyler? What is this?"

"Um - this is Jeremy, Jeremy - Dad."

"Nice meeting you, Mr. Lockwood," Jeremy said in a anxious voice, running a paper towel over the trail of soda.

"And what's he doing here?"

"Art project."

"Art?" he asked, the tone of disgust obvious in his voice, "I thought you were dropping that class."

"I changed my mind."

"Of course you did. Fine. Take art. Let's see how far that takes you in life. And the soda?"

"I spilled it. It was accident," Jeremy said quickly, tossing me apologetic glance.

Throwing a disdainful look at Jeremy he said, "Clean that up, and get this trash out of here."

I had a feeling he was referring to more than the used paper towels.

-

"He always like that?" Jeremy asked, buckling his seat belt, as I began to drive him home.

"None of your business," I replied, my eyes straight.

Jeremy scoffed, "Right. It's only my business when you wanna bone me. Other than that who the fuck cares, right?"

"Pretty much."

Jeremy was silent for the next five minutes before mustering up, "You know what Lockwood? You're a jackass, and you obviously don't give a _damn _about me, or anyone else, so what are we doing? What?"

I inhaled, deeply, exhaling a shuddering breath. I'd been wondering the same thing lately. Looking over at Jeremy I realized that he wasn't asking for my answer, he was asking for any answer at all, because right now all I had to go on was that I liked to have sex.

With Jeremy Gilbert. That was all.

Or so I hoped.

-

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, it was greatly appreciated :)  
I hope you continue to do so on this chapter. Pretty please?**


	3. Addicted

_Your Tired Eyes_  
**Chapter Three: **Addicted  
**Author's Note: **Hi :) Thanks to everyone for the all reviews! I'm really shocked by the turnout, and thrilled as well. I hope you continue to do so. For the format, I like it because I can change it to 1/2 screen and make the letters smaller and I feel it's easier to read. If that's still not working for you I'll change the format after this chapter.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

He was avoiding me. Honestly, I couldn't blame him. Other than the forty-five minutes a day we spent sketching each other, in which he refused to speak to me, I never saw him. He wasn't answering any of my texts, or phone calls, and I'd been trying. Hell, I'd been_ trying_. And I'd never tried. With Vicki - or any of those other girls I'd messed around with. But it had been three weeks, and hell I _wanted _Jeremy Gilbert.

And then there was _Astrid_. Astrid, the white blond haired skank that was constantly flirting with Jeremy. Which I wouldn't mind. Not really. Not if he wasn't responding to her like she was.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

I was tired of Tyler. It would be a lie to say that I didn't want him, sexually, that is. Because that's all he was good for. Sex. Or so I tried to convince myself. I mean, it's not like I couldn't get sex elsewhere, I reminded myself. I didn't need Lockwood for that. But damn, that boy knew how to have sex.

But he was Lockwood and he was a jerk and I had tried to see something other than the usual in him and I was disappointed. And I didn't know why. It's not like Lockwood would change for me even if I did really want him for something other than sex. It's like he would choose me over being King Jock or the seventeen girls he always had draped across his arms, or the last piece of pizza in the cafeteria, for that matter.

Which is why I decided to give Astrid a shot, because as she was rough around the edges, so was I. And maybe I needed someone who was more independent, outspoken, someone who was the opposite of Vicki and made Tyler look like one of those consolation prizes they give out to five year old's at the carnival to make them feel better about their poor hand-eye coordination.

(And honestly, it was kind of fun to see Tyler get jealous).

-

"So," Astrid began, pulling a strand of short hair off her face. We had a substitute in art and it seemed that no one felt the need to do their work. Tyler was boring holes into my head, but I tried not to seem to pleased by this. "My parents are out of town, and I was thinking,we could have a little fun."

I raised an eyebrow, "As in...?"

"Oh come on, Jeremy. I know you're into the drug scene."

I looked away from her. Great. Everyone knew. "I'm done with that."

"Really? So you're not into Oxycontin? Meth?" She said this with sarcastic disbelief in her voice.

It annoyed me. "Not anymore I'm not."

"And why's that?"

"I was going through a lot back then, okay? And I needed something to fall back on. I'm not going back there. I'm not."

She was silent, "Sorry."

And I could tell that she was. It was wrong for me to judge her, hypocritical. I'd liked Vicki, and she had done drugs. I'd done drugs. "It's - it's fine."

"We can do something else," she said, "Wanna see a movie or something?"

"I, um," This was different. This was an outright ask-out, and I wasn't sure if I wanted this. This whole Tyler thing messed me up more than I was willing to admit. "I don't think that that would be such a good idea...," I trailed off.

Astrid nodded. "Right," she said, the disappointment clear in her face.

-

"You can't do this forever you know," he said, leaning against the locker next to mine.

I was surprised that he was speaking to me, but said "Stalking me now, huh? A little creepy, Lockwood. Even for you."

"Look, I'm," he clenched his jaw, "I'm sorry. About last week. Okay? I'm sorry."

Squinting my eyes, I looked at him, as though this would help me understand things more clearly. Then I smiled, a smug smirk, as I began to realize the meaning of all this, in a low whisper I said, "You're trying to get in my pants, aren't you?" I chuckled lightly, "You are. Wow that's - I'm flattered," I said, sarcastic.

"Forget you, Gilbert," he said dismissively, turning to go.

"_Wait,_" I said, annoyed with my lack of willpower,"Secret Keeper. Text me. I'll be there."

"You sure?" Tyler asked seemingly taken aback.

I nodded.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

Jeremy's knock came at the door, and the odd feeling of been-there-done-that came over me, as I went to answer the door. Smirking, I said, "Just can't say no to me, huh?" He answered by kissing me, full on the mouth, kicking the door closed with his left leg.

"Apparently not," he whispered, his fingers dancing across the edge of my jeans.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

We lay next to each other afterward, a thin blanket covering us, and his lips tracing across the contours of my shoulders.

"I should go," I muttered lightly, not making any effort to leave.

"Don't."

"Lockw -,"

He cut me off, "Tyler. We went over this."

"Tyler. I - Elena's going to -,"

"Stay," he said, moving so that he was above me, "Stay, and I'll make it worth your while."

I contemplated this. He most definitely would. "I'll stay - if you tell me about your dad."

"Wow. Great sex topic Jeremy - way to set the mood," he said shifting back to his former position.

"Look you totally flipped out last time I asked you, I just - I wanna know why."

"Why?" he asked, "Why do you even care?"

"I'm not allowed to care?"

"Not allowed. Not supposed to."

"Because?"

Tyler was silent. "It's not like it's a big secret. He's the mayor. I'm the failure of a son. He cheats on my mom. He treats me like - like crap."

I wasn't sure what to say. This awkward silence, was after all my fault. I shouldn't have asked, but it was too late now, so I did the only thing I knew.

I kissed him, and it was different from all those kisses before. All that brutal lust and roughness melted away. I held his face to mine with one hand stroking his cheek, the other hand locked on the side of his waist. He responded well to the kiss, deepening it so that our tongues lashed out against each other. His fingers, as usual, entangled in my hair. And all there was was Tyler. Tyler and I.

And then he pulled away, his breath heavy. "_Damn it_, Jeremy, what the hell?"

"What?" I asked, confused. It wasn't like Tyler to pull away from a kiss. Especially when we were naked and it could turn into another activity, which he happened to enjoy far more.

"This is why I didn't want to tell you. You just can't - this can't be about feelings! Feelings are sticky. And I'm...I'm the _mayor's son_, Jeremy. My dad gets pissed when I get a C on my report card. When I show up late for his stupid functions. I can't - be gay. I just can't." I wasn't sure if he had actually strung together a full sentence, it was filled with pauses and sentence fragments and anger and overwhelming emotion, more than I'd ever seen him muster before.

"Tyler, I - ,"

"I have to go. I'm sorry, about all of this - I never should of started...," he trailed off, practically jumping off the cheap motel mattress. After pulling his clothes on he looked back at me, before leaving and said, "Sorry," he repeated. And he really did look sorry.

Not like that was going to help any.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

This was supposed to be about sex. Sex and only sex. That's what we said we wanted from each other and that's what we got. Until now.

I wasn't quite sure how to describe all that I was feeling, but I'll simplify it for you: I was starting to fall for Jeremy Gilbert.

I guess you can say that you're only doing what you're doing for the sake of it, but sooner or later you have to consider, you have to realize that maybe it's not what you're doing, but who you're doing it with that makes you so addicted to it.

-

**Sorry for all the point of view switches, but I hope you enjoyed it :)**

**_Review!_**** Magical things will happen. Like Harry-Potter level magic. If you review and you walk into the next room and yell 'Stupefy'! I guarantee that your tissue box will not move for the rest of it's existence. If that's not magic, I don't know what is ;)**


	4. Confessions

_Your Tired Eyes_

**Chapter Four: **Confessions

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

It's been three weeks, and now it's Tyler doing the avoiding. Every attempt at a conversation is deflected with a one word answer, and he's started to skip art. In the hallways his eyes are downcast as to stop any eye contact. Worse than that are the girls.

The girls that Tyler is _fucking _left and right. Now more than ever. He doesn't even try to hide it, and they just hang all over him.

Now that I mind. Not that I care. Not that he ever meant anything to me. Not that if he did I'd admit it.

-

I have to talk to him. I have to tell him that he's despicable and that I'm glad he's done with me because I was getting tired of him anyways. That I don't miss him and that I don't care. But we are in school and he surrounded, and I'm not that cruel.

I walk up to him as he's talking to a pretty blonde and another brunette in the courtyard, against the fence. "So that's it then, huh?" I say loudly when he doesn't notice my sudden appearance.

His face turns chalk white with apprehension, "Jeremy…what -,"

I cut him off, "You had me fooled for a second you know. I actually thought you weren't the douchebag everyone thought you were. Good to see you care about your reputation."

"_Jeremy_," he emphasizes my name, "Not here. Please," he mutters in an undertone. "_Please_."

"I don't have much of a choice do I?" I ask, "Where the hell else am I going to see you?" I say, matching his volume.

"Look, I'm sorry – but that's all I can tell you. I'm done. I'm done."

Clenching my jaw, in anger and frustration and disappointment, I glance at him one more time before saying, "You're pathetic. You're weak. And you're _disgusting_," I say the venom in my voice above reproach.

And I guess that's the last straw for Tyler because the next thing I know I'm on the floor and his fist is in my face.

-

As Astrid is telling me about the recent Brad Pitt flick she's seen, several days later in art, I cut her off, "Hey, do you – do you still know where I can get _some_?" I asked lowering my voice.

She looked surprised, "I thought you said -,"

"I know what I said. And now I'm saying this. Do you?"

"Yeah. Uh, yeah. I'll hook you up."

"Thanks," I mutter.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

I really shouldn't care. I shouldn't feel awful, and I shouldn't feel like I need to have sex with half the girls in the school to get over that four seconds of feeling something for Jeremy Gilbert, but I do. And it scares me.

It scares me because deep down I know what it means, and I know what would happen if anyone but me knew.

And I shouldn't have punched Jeremy in the face – I knew that. But I was afraid – afraid that the words that he was saying were more than the angry words of a teenager. Maybe they were the truth and the truth was exactly what I was afraid of facing.

-

It's around seven p.m. on a Friday night when I decide to head for the woods. The one near the open lake where I always feel as though I am at peace. What I don't plan on is Jeremy being there.

What I don't plan on is Jeremy being there, with that same lethal amount of alcohol running through his body as the first time.

"Gilbert?" I call out his name, incredulously, and he turns around. He is unstable on his feet (very), which is a pretty big tip off that he isn't completely sober.

"Gilbert, are you _drunk?" _I asked scanning him with my eyes. A bottle of liquors hangs loosely from on of his hands. Of course he is.

"Pretty much," he mumbles the words, slurred.

Of course this is happening. Of course this is happening to _me_. Advancing towards him, I make a grab at the liquor bottle, which he quickly pulls away. "_Mine_," he says, and he looks out of his mind. I look around and quickly notice the rather large pile of glass bottles near the edge of the lake.

"Come on, Gilbert. I'm taking you home," I said quickly, grabbing him by the wrist. And I get a good look at his face. It has bruised far worse than I expected it to. My own face – my own body sports no sign of a fight. Because Jeremy didn't touch me once while I was hitting every part of him I could.

He doesn't budge, but looks at me, his eyes bloodshot and says, "You wanna punch me in the face again?" he asks, "Wasn't last time enough?"

"Look – I'm sorry about that, but you…you were out of line."

"Was I?" he asks, and his face is etched with angry and sadness, "Or were you?" he asks, pulling away from me.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, "I'm sorry."

"I don't care," he says, and his voice is bitter.

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

I go back to edge of the lake and sit there, still for a moment before he says, "Whether you like it or not I'm not leaving you here. Got it?"

I'm not going to honor him with a reply, so instead a take another swig of liquor.

"_Jeremy_."

I look back at him "Thought it was 'Gilbert' now. Now that you're '_done_' with me."

He takes a seat next to me. We sit in silence for a minute.

"What are you doing?" I finally ask.

"I'm _not _leaving you here. I thought I made that pretty clear."

I scoffed, "You don't care. Don't pretend to care." And then I reach for the plastic bag next to me filled with white pills.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks me, leaning closer to me, "You're worth more than that, Jeremy," he says. I wince at how corny the words sound out loud.

"What are we – a lifetime movie?" I ask with a snort.

"Jeremy -,"

"I like you," I say, turning to him, so that our faces are only a few inches apart from each other.

"What?" Tyler asks, and his face is flooded with disbelief.

I turn back towards the lake, "I don't know why. I just – you're a jerk," I say glancing at him, "You're a grade-A jerk, and I should hate you. I should hate you for everything you've put me through – but I see you and I don't know, Lockwood. I just – I don't hate you. Not the way I should. I can't – I can't get you out of my head. It's driving me crazy."

He stares at me.

And maybe he isn't sure what to do other than stare at me. But then he grabs me, his quivering hands encircling my face, and kisses me. And he makes damn sure that his lips trace over ever bruise and cut that he has caused. And I hope, maybe, just maybe, that he does this because he likes me too. Because _I like_ Tyler Lockwood. I like him more than I've ever liked anybody, and it's not very healthy, but there's not much I can do about it.

I kiss him back.

But I can't keep myself from believing that it has in part to do with drunkenness. Because sometimes when you're drunk you know what you're doing – you just don't care. And sometimes you just don't know what you're doing. And I hope he knows that I know exactly what I'm doing.

I want him not to care. But at the same time I want him to care; I want him to care a lot.

-

We wake up in the grass the next morning, our sweaters doubling as our far-too-small blankets. I groan loudly as I wake, the hangover was started to kick in, "_Fuck," I_ mutter, sitting up.

"That bad?" Tyler asks, squinting at the bright sunlight. I answer with another groan.

Grimacing he gingerly searches for the bottled water in my backpack, twisting the cap off and handing it to me, "Drink," he says, bringing it to my lips.

"You want me to take you home?" he asks as I empty the contents of the bottle into my mouth. His face is sympathetic.

"Yeah," I whimper, "Please."

-

"What did you do to him?" Elena asks, as we appear on my doorstep, Tyler, supporting me as best as he could.

"_I _didn't do anything to him. The idiot got drunk and fell asleep in the woods. I found him," Tyler says quickly making up a story.

"What were you thinking?" Elena asks, her voice filled with concern, "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

I don't answer, looking downcast. "I'll take him upstairs," Tyler says, cutting into the tense silence.

"Thanks," Elena says, "I'll be up with some aspirin – and a lecture."

"Surprise, surprise," I mutters, as I Tyler tries to shift my weight. One arm slung around my shoulder, he gets me upstairs, where I collapse on my bed, my head still filled with a pounding pain.

"So, uh, I'm gonna go," he says, heading for the door.

"Wait," I say shifting so that I was sitting up; I wince, and then repeat myself, "Wait."

"What?" Tyler asks his hand around the doorframe.

"Why do you do that?" I ask.

He shakes my head, as if he doesn't understand what I'm saying, "Do what…?"

"You fuck me, and then you leave. And then you tell me you're done. And then you do it again. Why?"

"I – I don't -,"

"I know what I told you last night," I say avoiding his glance, "But you could've walked away. You didn't. I wanna know why."

He shakes his head, "I don't know," he says attempting nonchalance.

I get up, grimacing as my head was still throbbing, and lock the door behind us. Then, I turn on him, pressing him against the door, and I kiss him again.

It took about a minute and a half to muster enough sanity to break away from him. The wanton need in his lips made it hard to. But then he just stares, "Jeremy. I can't do this," he says pausing between each word, "I can't. Why are you so obsessed with me?"

That is exactly the arrogant, egotistical kind of thing that only Tyler would say in such a situation, "Why am I so obsessed with you?" I ask, a mild tone to my voice, "Because I can't get you out of my head. No matter what I try. I thought – maybe, if I got high enough, drunk enough, I'd forget about you. But here we are. Guess we're both fooling ourselves though, huh?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

I stare at him, "I care about you, Tyler. And whether you admit it, or not, I know you care about me too."

"You don't know anything," Tyler says, and walks out, slamming the door behind him.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

I was a fucking liar, and I Jeremy knew it.

He was right. I did care about him, more than I would ever let him know. And he was right again, because I did screw him over, time and time again. And I couldn't stop what we had started, not with a few stern glances and punches in the face, because Jeremy had been persistent with Vicki, and he had gotten her, and he was twice as persistent with me.

And I wanted him. I wanted him for more than sex. But I would never tell him. Because I was the mayor's son, and there are some things the mayor's son cannot get away with.

(But honestly, I didn't know how much longer I could carry on following these rules.)

-

**Tyler/Jeremy **actual relationship coming up :) Review and I'll write faster! Love to all of you guys! If you're going to alert/favorite, then please review, because they make me really happy.

Happy Holidays!


	5. Acceptance

_Your Tired Eyes  
_**Chapter Five: **Acceptance

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

There are three things that always give my dad an excuse to be upset with me. One, report cards. Two, game days. And three, of course, my dates. _Especially my dates._

Needless to say, both he and mom thought Vicki was trash. This only made me wonder further what my parents would say if I brought Jeremy Gilbert home. I didn't even want to imagine that conversation.

And here I was, thinking of him again, as I had been doing for the last six days.

God, this was getting annoying.

-

I wait for Jeremy at his locker the following Wednesday. I want to apologize and tell him that I had just been confused, and I was sorry I had used him as an outlet for my confusion, but that's all there ever was. Maybe if I repeated it enough it would start to be true.

"Tyler?" he asks raising an eyebrow, as he approaches his locker.

"Jeremy, hey," I say as he twirls in a combination.

"We're on first name terms now?" Jeremy asked, again in surprise.

"There's no reason we can't be friends."

"Except that every time I see you I want to jump your bones," he said, and then seeing the look on my face, Jeremy smirked, "Joking, Lockwood."

Last names again, joy. Ignoring this I decided to say what I had come there for, "Right – look I…I wanted to apologize. I was rude, and I'm sorry. I've just – I've been going through a lot. I won't bother you anymore," I said nodding, and turning to leave.

Jeremy snorted, and then said, "You really think that's all it's going to take?" he asked, still facing towards his locker.

"What?" I asked, leaning back against the wall.

"To end this, I mean. 'I'm sorry, and I won't bother you anymore'?" he scoffed, "Really, Tyler? It's too late for that."

"I don't know what else to say to you. I mean, I'm not gay, Jeremy. I was just -,"

"Confused – yeah, you've said it before," He nodded, slowly, a cynical expression on his face, "You can't run away from this Tyler. I know you're scared – hell, I'm scared, but you can't pretend that it didn't happen. It's gonna catch up with you, eventually."

"Don't lecture me, Gilbert."

Jeremy scoffs, presumably because of the mutual usage of last names, "Fine. You'll leave me alone. Great. I won't be seeing you," he says, slamming his locker closed, and walking away.

"Jeremy -,"

He turns around, walking backwards, "You wanna talk to me again? – stop denying it. Other than that…have a nice life_. I'm_ done this time, Lockwood."

-  
Ms. Byrne, my English teacher carelessly flings my test at me, as she walked around the room. A red circle enclosed the red 'F' on the paper. Next to she had written, _PARENT TEACHER CONFERENCE_ in large messy print. It was the second test I'd bombed in the last two weeks.

Great. Just fucking great.

-

"- a _disgrace_. An _absolute_ disgrace. Your ancestors would be ashamed," my father chastised as he drove to the parent teacher conference several days later.

"Well tell them I said sorry," I said leaning forwards, and placing my face in my palms.

My father took this opportunity to smack in the back of the head, "Bad grades. Missing football practice. Oh – and no girlfriend. Youth is wasted on you."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Dad," I say sarcastically. He glares, but doesn't say anything to me for the remainder of the ride – which is a relief, to say the very least.

-

Jeremy Gilbert is dating Astrid Marks. Matt tells me this in an indifferent voice when I ask about Elena, which I eventually turn into a conversation about the Gilberts in general, and then Jeremy.

The realization that Jeremy is actually dating – not just sleeping with – other people makes the knots growing in my stomach tighten. When I see him fourth period that day, it is the first time I've been to art in weeks. I lie to Ms. Jasper about going to guidance instead, and take my seat. I watch as Astrid playfully teases Jeremy.

I want to punch her in the face.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

Using people is not my thing. It is a complete and total Tyler Lockwood move, which is why I'm sure he won't realize what I'm doing. Because Lockwood has learned to expect a lot of things from me, but schemes are not one of them. It's not like I had planned it from the start. Not like I expected Tyler to be glaring at me with envy in his eyes when I had first asked Astrid out. I liked her, I did.

But I wasn't an idiot, and the lies Tyler had told me about 'going through a rough time,' were pretty translucent.

And I wanted Tyler Lockwood. I wanted him and the fact that I was willing to use Astrid to get him disturbed me. I would feel guiltier but by the look of it, it was working.

-

Astrid asked me to accompany her to the football game that night – which in all honesty, I wanted to skip. But Astrid was nice, and she was trying, so maybe I would try. We would go the grill beforehand, grab some food.

Maybe then she would make me forget my parents dying, Vicki disappearing and Tyler's lips.

But I couldn't forget. People don't forget these kinds of things.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

I'm trying not to think of him as I'm on my date with Nikki Reynolds. She's sat next to me in Physics for the last two terms, and seemed nice enough. I'd asked her out pretty much out of the blue. Maybe so that I could finally get a girlfriend that my father wouldn't hate – or maybe to shove it in the Jeremy's face; I wasn't quite sure. But here I was, listening her telling me some ridiculous story about her childhood in New York.

"- and then my mom told us we couldn't go to the Macy Day Parade unless we got straight A's on our report cards, so I had to…,"

Trying to maintain the appearance of giving a damn I propped my head with one hand. I was just about to suggest that we end the date when I saw him walk in, Astrid leading the way.

It's like the universe hates me. Or maybe it's because we live in a small town. I don't know, 'the universe hates me,' sounds more dramatic.

Jeremy glances at me as they walk by our table, and takes one rather close to ours. I want to make him regret what he'd said to me, but at the same time I can't stand that smirk on his face. And I'm not going to sit idly by pretending to make conversation with some half-wit while he has his tongue down some skank's throat. I haven't been listening to a word Nikki has said, and I don't plan on it either, so it doesn't make what I do next difficult. Without so much as a word in her acknowledgement I get up and leave.

-

There are forty seconds left in the game. Forty seconds, and everyone is counting on me, because we are eight points behind and I need to make this touchdown so that Matt can score for us one more time, winning us this game. Forty seconds, and Jeremy gets up, his fingers intertwined with hers.

Matt looks at me, his eyes are concerned; I can see them through his helmet, "Dude – you okay?" he asks.

I continue to stare, and then say, "No."

"Tyler, what -,"

I can't hear the rest of his sentence because I am running. Away from the football field. I can hear them yelling at me – the crowd, my teammates, my coach, my father. My father.

So I run faster.

-

I get to the Gilbert house, and just stand there, staring at it for a moment. I don't know what to do. I don't know why I'm here, but at the same time; I do. Elena's still at the football game, most likely watching Stefan win the game for us, and her aunt too, who's seeing Coach Saltzman, Tanner's replacement. Maybe he's alone, maybe he's not.

I walk up the stairs and ring the doorbell. After mere seconds it opens, Jeremy sees me, and he tries to slam the door in my face. I don't let him. Grudgingly, he opens it, "What do you want, Lock-,"

"So - so you're sleeping with her now?" I ask, abruptly.

"That's none of your business," Jeremy replies. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Well, that sucks for -,"

I cut him off, "I failed three tests over the last two weeks. I've had to go to a parent-teacher conference, where my dad called me useless - in front of my English teacher, and I just walked out on my teammates, and I'm probably going to be benched the rest of the season. So I want you – I _need_ you to give me five minutes. Give me five _damn_ minutes."

Jeremy seemed to consider this, and then nodding, he held the door open, "Come in."

As soon as he closed the door he turned to me and said, "What?"

Running my fingers through my hair, I exhaled deeply, "I - I don't...,"

"You come here to stammer together a bunch of incoherent sentences?" Jeremy asks.

I glare at him, "Where's _Astrid_?" I say mockingly, not expecting anything but a smart-ass retort from him.

"I broke up with her," Jeremy says, careful not to look at me.

"Oh, I'm – I'm sorry."

"No you're not," Jeremy says scoffing, "But it's fine. It's…what are you doing here, again?"

I stare at him for a moment wondering if I should just leave. Leaving would be easier. But there's something that won't let me walk away from him. Not this time. So I say, "You told me not to talk to you until I could stop denying it. And I'm done denying it."

He looks up, and he is shocked, I can tell. This_ isn't_ a Tyler-Lockwood move, and that's unexpected.

He swallows, hard, and then, "Say it," his voice is breathless.

I stare at him for a moment, and then overwhelmed by the situation, I head for the door, "I – I can't do this. I'm sorry I came," I say.

But Jeremy refuses to take that. Grabbing me by the collar, he slams me against the wall adjacent to the door, "_No_," he says, "You don't get to come in here, and fuck with my feelings anymore. Say it. Say. _It_," his voice is shaking, and he is vulnerable. We're both scared, and each of us knows it.

I don't say it. Instead, I enclose his face around one trembling hand, the other intertwining in his hair and I kiss him.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V. **

Only later, as we lay next to each other, silent, do I wonder how we made it up to my room, and got the door locked, before ripping each others' clothes off.

Tyler is hyperventilating, yet the sound of his breathing is comforting. I'm staring at him, and I ask, "Where do we go from here?"

He seems to ponder this for a minute and then says, "I don't Jeremy, I don't know."

-

Cliffhanger kind of?**Review please lovelies!** :)  
_That means _you_!_


	6. Secrets

_Your Tired Eyes  
_**Chapter Six: **Secrets

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

It's dark. It's still dark when I wake up. Jeremy and I are buried beneath a blanket that I presume he had placed over us. Spending the night – was not something I did, and I was sure my father would penalize me for it once I got home, which I was in no rush to get to.

Sitting up, I blink blindly trying to make out forms in the dark. Jeremy is asleep, facing upwards, his pale skin vibrating almost in the dark. It strikes me how different this is than the Secret Keeper. How different it is from anything.

Breathing in deeply, I lean over him, and whisper the words I was too spineless to say before, "I care about you, Gilbert."

I'm caught off guard when he smirks, and weakly, "You think I don't know that, Lockwood?" he asks, opening his eyes slightly.

I scoff, and then smile, "Go back to sleep, Gilbert."

-

"_Shit_," I mutter, watching the numbers of the clock change. "I hate you, Gilbert. I _hate_ you."

Jeremy chuckles, lightly, and then says, "I didn't ask you to stay the night."

"Shit," I mutter, "Shit shit shit. How the hell do I get out of here?"

"Stop panicking, first of all," Jeremy says, "We're already late. So – climb out the window."

"_What_? You room is on the _second_ floor."

"There's a tree," Jeremy says, "Man up, Lockwood."

I shoot him a dirty look, "You're making me walk to school?"

Jeremy rolls his eyes, "Or we could go explain to my aunt Jenna that we had sex last night, and that you decided to spend the night."

"I hate you," I repeat, and Jeremy grins.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

I am _happy_. I am happy and I haven't been happy in weeks, months even. But Tyler is being nice – well, as nice as Tyler can get, and _God_, do I want to ditch school and just spend the day with him; which sounds incredibly cliché, but I didn't care at the moment.

"What're you so happy about?" Aunt Jenna asks during the car-ride to school, glancing at me.

I shrug.

-

I catch a glimpse of Tyler while I'm in the hallway trying to get to second period; he is heading out of the main office, with a pink tardy slip in his hand. I tried my best to turn my laugh into a hacking cough, but he noticed me, and smirked.

"Keep laughing, Gilbert," he says, his voice low, as he passes by me.

Five minutes later, as I'm in study hell, my cell phone vibrates in my pants. Ducking my head, I read the text, from an unknown cell phone which says _You know who this is. West entrance, 10 mins._

-

I get a pass from my study teacher, to the nurse, after a fake a headache. She rolls her eyes, this isn't new. When I was into the drug scene I got these 'headaches' all the time. She didn't seem to care. Scribbling her name on the pass, she hands it to me and tells me to get an aspirin and head back.

Half sprinting-half walking, I make it to the west entrance. It's a rather gloomy part of the school, and it's a door no one uses anymore. Tyler stands with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall under the stairwell. "Took you long enough," Tyler says the picture of nonchalance.

I roll my eyes, "Any reason you were forty minutes late for school?"

Tyler smirks, "My dad caught me walking."

"Ouch."

"I told him I was at Matt's. He didn't believe me, but whatever, Matt's used to covering for me." Tyler's seemingly had enough small talk, and takes the opportunity to grab me, and slam me against the wall he was previously leaning against.

"You are the most testosterone-driven person I've ever met."

"I'll pretend you meant that as a compliment," Tyler replies, tilting my head up and kissing me.

I break away from him, "You just asked me here so that we could fuck? Really, Tyler?" I ask, and I guess he can sense the underlying anger in my voice

Tyler doesn't seem to respond to emotion well, so he rolls his eyes, "Dude, what's your problem?"

"Why does this have to be a secret?"

"Are you serious?" Tyler asks, and the tone of his voice suggests that he really doesn't understand why I would be upset, at all about this.

"I thought you said you were done denying it," I say.

He scoffs, "God – why can't you just let this be _easy_? Why do you have to get so -,"

I cut him off, "Emotional? I _have_ emotions," I reply and it seems like we've taken one step forward and two steps back. Here we are, discussing the same thing, every time.

"You think I don't? Jeremy – _god damn it_ – there are some things I can't do. Going public with this is one of them."

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because it's true-,"

"I'm not listening to this again. You keep saying that _you're_ not doing this. Well I'm not doing this, Tyler. I refuse to become one of your fuck buddies – okay? So go find Mandy or Jennifer or who the hell ever and you do whatever the hell you want with them. But you don't do this to me. Not after all this. I'm not going back to this, Tyler. I'm not," I say, beginning to walk – rather, run – in the opposite direction.

Even from a distance I can hear Tyler's string of swears.

**Tyler P.O.V.**

I find Jeremy afterschool, he gives me a disparaging look, and a, "Go away, Tyler."

But I'm tired. I'm just as tired as he is, and I'm not going to go away. "You think I don't want this just as much as you do?" I ask him, "You think I like hiding? You think I like lying and pretending and secrets? I don't. But if my dad…," I trail off, "He'd disown me, Jeremy. He would literally _disown_ me."

"That's not my problem. I don't have to deal with it, and I don't have to deal with you," Jeremy says, and then he sighs, leans against his locker, and whispers, "_Damn_ _it_. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just – I'm scared, Tyler. And I don't know how to -," Jeremy stops to talk another deep breath; "I don't know how to do this, Tyler. Not if you're not it with me. What's the point?"

I look at him; he is a confused kid, he is young, and of course he is scared. He is lost. I'm lost. I sigh, and then say, "I like you, Jeremy. I like you more than I've ever liked anybody. And this? This isn't a walk in the park for me, either."

"Fine," Jeremy says, finally, and shuts his locker.

"Fine?"

"This can be easy. I'll let it be easy, for now. I'll stop talking about going public with this, and we'll stop fighting."

"Somehow I think we'll find something to fight about."

Jeremy smirks.

-

Jeremy and I go the lake afterschool, realizing that the fact that everybody knows everybody is a downside of living in a small town. Everyone talks; and I can't have people talking about this.

Jeremy takes a seat along the edge of the grassy ground just above the lake, and this takes me back to that night – _"I like you," _– wincing, I recall it.

"Just gonna stand there, Tyler?" Jeremy asks, glancing back at me.

I sit next to him. We are quiet, for minutes to come, until Jeremy says, "Dad used to bring me here – before the car crash. Obviously, before. I always took it for granted. Took him for granted."

I don't know what to say about this, my dad is a jackass, but he is alive. Both of my parents are alive, and Jeremy's are dead. Jeremy is confused and young and broken, and I don't know how to deal with this.

I don't know how to deal with death, or silent tears, so I just watch him – and he is crying now, trying desperately to hold back tears, I can tell, but to no avail.

"_Shit_," Jeremy whispers, and there is a sob in his voice, "Sorry, I didn't – I didn't mean to -,"

"Don't. Don't apologize," I say, and then I hug him, and it is slightly awkward, but I can deal with it if it means Jeremy will stop crying. I break apart from him for a brief moment and brush my lips against his, "I'm here for you. It's okay."

And things are good. But I know they won't remain this way; I always do something to fuck good things up.

-

Sorry this chapter was a little short, but I really hope you guys liked it! I like writing happy Jeremy/Tyler, but more drama's coming up of course  
** Review please, loves!** ;)


	7. Fault

_Your Tired Eyes  
_**Chapter Six: **Fault

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

"Two and a half _fucking_ weeks," Matt says, as we eat lunch. He is sitting across from me, picking at a tuna sandwich.

"What are you going on about?" I ask looking up from whatever poison they'd served up for lunch today.

"That's how long I've been covering your ass for this girl. And you're honestly not going to tell me who it is?"

"Nope."

"Oh come on, Ty. We've been friends forever."

"I'm still not telling you."

"Is there a reason you won't tell me? Is she hideous? Pregnant? Illegal?"

"Dude."

Matt scrutinized me for a second, and then, "It's not….Caroline is it?"

I scoff, "Everyone's been with Caroline. Why would I lie about that?"

Matt glares at me.

"Oh shit, you guys are dating now, right? Sorry."

"You're such a dick, Tyler. Next time your dad calls I'm telling him that you're at a strip club."

"Oh come on, Matt. Don't be such a pansy."

"Fuck you, man."

-  
I stop by Jeremy's locker after lunch. The lunch period at Mystic Falls High is split into three, and while I have the first lunch of the day (after 4th period), Jeremy has the 2nd, which falls in the middle of fifth period. I'm sure to be late to psychology but it's not like I usually go anyways. Jeremy looks up and smiles, "Hey."

"So Matt's getting testy," I say, "I don't know what we're going to do."

Jeremy rolls his eyes, "My day's been lovely, thanks."

"I'm serious."

Jeremy sighs, and then closes his locker, "Then tell him. Whatever."

"Are you crazy?"

"No, but I'm not going to get any lunch if I stand here and argue with you. He's your friend, man. He's not gonna ditch you."

"It's not about that. Look, if I tell Matt, you know he's going to tell Elena. You want Elena to find out?"

"Right. Fine. Don't tell him. It's all the same to me," he says shrugging.

"_Jeremy_."

"What? Do you want me to pretend to care?"

"Look I know you're all gung-ho about going public with this, but if I don't have someone to cover my ass I don't know how I'm even supposed to see you."

"We'll figure something out, Lockwood. Breathe. I'll see you after school."

-

I wait outside, leaning against my truck, afterschool. I'm half waiting for Jeremy, and half waiting for Matt. Maybe if I apologized he'd calmed down. It's not like what I'd said wasn't true. Caroline Forbes was known to _give it up._ It's not like I hadn't slept with her once or twice. That's probably not how I would start the apology.

Before I see either of them Elena comes up to me, "Hey, Tyler, have you seen Jeremy?"

I shrug, my heartbeat quickening considerably, "Why would I have seen Jeremy?"

"I just – I thought you guys were friends now."

"Not really."

"Oh. Well, if you see him, tell him I'm looking for him."

I nod, and then lean back against the truck.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

Tyler is a prick. I don't know how long he expects me to keep up this nothing-is-going-on façade, but he's going to be sorely disappointed. But I couldn't tell him that. Because that would result in us getting into another two hours screaming fight, which would probably result in sex, or a punch in the face. Or both. You could never tell with Tyler.

I want him to tell Matt. Hell, I wanted to tell someone, but it was only then that I realized that I was severely lacking in any friends. The stoners that I'd once hung out with paled in comparison to anything Tyler related.

_Shit_, I think as I realize, I am so whipped.

-

Tyler is fucking gorgeous, I realize as I approach his truck afterschool. Most of the parking lot is vacated; a few cars are still there from the oh-so-rare kids who participate in extra-curricular activities. I liked his deep set eyebrows, his soft hair, the color of his eyes, and the way he smiled when he meant it. This recognition makes it that much more obvious to me that this is more than a crush. It isn't. This isn't fooling around. And it isn't just sex anymore.

"Did you talk to Matt?" I ask squinting to keep my eyes open while a sudden downpour of rain stuck us.

"No, actually. He seems pretty keen on avoiding me. Oh – uh, Elena's looking for you."

"Great. That would explain the ten calls I got in the last five minutes."

Tyler smirks, and then, "Are you going to get in or do you want to stand here and _gaze into each other's eyes?"_

"I'm thinking."

And there it was. That smile.

-

"It's still pouring. I am not getting out of this car," Tyler says, as he parks near the edge of the forest in which the lake is.

"Oh come on, Ty. 'Fraid you're going to mess up your hair?"

"Screw you, Jeremy," he says.

"You already did that. Come on," I say, unbuckling my belt, and hopping out of the truck, "Come _on_."

Reluctantly almost, he follows suit, "This jacket's fifty bucks. If it gets ruined, I swear I will rip your head off."

"You're such a girl," I comment, as we trudge through muddy grass, reaching the clearing in front of the lake. We're not completely drenched yet, so I walk forwards, and stand there for a moment. The rain is pouring, and my shirt is clinging to my skin.

"Dude, you're gonna get pneumonia," Tyler comments.

"Sounds fun," I say turning around.

Tyler rolls his eyes, and says, "Jere. Come on."

I edge closer to the lake, backwards. Tyler looks reluctant but he follows me, a somewhat grim expression on his face.

"Just couldn't resist, huh?"

"You're gonna fall into the lake, and then I'm going to have to drag your ass out."

"Well, we both know how much you like my ass."

"Shut the hell up, Jeremy," Ty says, grabbing me by the neckline of my shirt, and kissing me. Kissing in the rain; it seems like one of those things that are cliché, but not so cliché that you don't want to do it.

We break apart, and this is usually followed by some snide comment by Tyler. He stares at me for a moment.

I cock my head to the left and say, "What?" a scoff in my voice, "I know I'm hot but you're creeping me out Lockwood."

He smiles, and then says, "Yeah. Yeah, you are."

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

We're in the library; well Matt was in the library, alone, and I'd followed him, to try and get him to change his mind about not speaking to me. It wasn't going very well. "Are you seriously not talking to me? What are we - five? _'I'm not talking to you until you tell me who you like_?'"

"Go away, Tyler. I'm not in the mood."

"Oh come on, Matt. Why the hell does it even matter?"

He flips through his physics book, to what I presume is a random page and then looks up and says, "You're not just my friend. You're my best friend. And you're - you're seriously not telling me who you're dating, which tells me that either one, you don't trust me at all, or two, there is something seriously wrong with this girl."

I wince at his use of the word girl.

"Tyler," Matt says, leaning closer to me, "Tell me. Just tell me. God, how bad could it be?"

I let out a frustrated sigh, and then say, "I'm not _not telling_ you because I don't want you to know. It's not my secret to tell Matt, because I know what you will do if I tell you."

Matt looks at me disparagingly, shakes his head, and says, "_Best friends._ Forget it, man."

He starts to walk away, and I say, "Stop," I close my eyes and allow the full gravity of what I'm about to do hit me, "Come back."

Matt does so, a matter-of-fact look on his face, "Shoot. Tell me."

Another deep sigh, and then, "It's Gilbert."

Matt looks at me in a shocked and disgusted sort of way, "Elena? You're dating Ele-,"

"Not her, you idiot."

"Then what -," he stops mid-sentence, and stares at me. "No, dude, you're not -,"

"Jeremy."

Still nothing.

"Yeah. Your best friend's a fag. Must be glad I told you that, huh?" I say, allowing the bitterness wash over my voice. It was my turn to walk away.

-

I'm mad at Jeremy, and it's unreasonable. I should be mad at Matt for being unsupportive and for staring at me rather than saying anything, but I'm not; because deep down I know I would've done the same thing to him if he'd been the one coming out to me (before the whole Jeremy business of course). It wasn't like this was something that was to be expected.

I was mad at Jeremy because he had told me that Matt would be okay with it, and I may have possibly just lost my so called 'best friend'. Because he had made me this way – it was his fault.

Which was why, of course, when my father told me about the charity ball he was attending I decided that as of now, I was not gay. I would take a girl – one of those that fooled everyone into thinking they were classy, but also turned out to be easy – and I'd fuck her until I remembered who I was.

If it didn't work, I could always go back to Jeremy. He would never have to know.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

Tyler's being an ass, and honestly, it's getting a little old. He's been avoiding me the last three days, and today he's sent me a text informing me that we can't see each other because he apparently has a world altering history paper to write on the Whiskey Rebellion. I shake it off, he's probably going through one of his things again, (I'm getting used to them) and his father's probably bugging him about the downward spiral of his grades.

Elena's going to a charity ball with Stefan, and Jenna insists I go along, chatting casually about how antisocial I am and how she fears for my ability not to become a serial killer. I sigh, I hate suit and tie events. I'll go, but I'm taking my own car. Elena and Stefan's particular brand of love makes me want to vomit.

-

I've been at the 'party' for about twenty minutes, and it's not much of a party. I am given contemptuous glances by caterers carrying trays of wine, and by upper-class girls. No one really catches my eye. Until I see Mayor Lockwood. Cocking my head, I wonder if there's any chance Tyler's here, as that would make things considerably less boring. It would also mean that he'd lied to me, I realize, my gaze shifting around the room, trying to locate him.

Giving up, I approach his father, my voice hoarse I ask, "Mr. Lockwood?"

He looks up at me, "Oh. You're the boy who ruined my floors, aren't you?"

"Uh yeah. Sorry about that. Um – is, is Tyler here?"

"He's somewhere," he replies, and then continues to mutter about 'teenagers these days'.

Mansions are hard places to find people in – especially filled mansions. Annoyed, I climb up the stairs, undetected, and began to search through the rooms. The first three rooms are empty, and dark. I open the next door to the pleasant sound of and, "Oh my god!" and another, "Shit, where's my underwear?" It's not Tyler. Closing the door with an apologetic look, I continue. Empty. Empty. Bingo.

I push the door open, and spot a half naked Tyler Lockwood being straddled by a rather drunk blonde. Tyler doesn't notice, or seem to care at first, but as soon as he gets a good glance at me an expression that quite blatantly says, 'oh-shit' appears on his face.

He pushes the blonde off him, shaking his head, "Jeremy – Jere, it's not -,"

"Whiskey Rebellion, huh?" I ask my tone bitter, as I lean against the doorframe, "Must be one hell of a paper," I say turning to leave.

"Jeremy, come on. It doesn't mean anything. I -,"

"I don't wanna hear it, Lockwood," I say, my tone dark, as I half-sprint back downstairs.

It's easy to get drunk at these things when you want to, because no matter how much the caterers leer at you they can't stop you from swallowing three glasses of liquor, if you run like hell after.

And I do.

But somehow Lockwood manages to get his suit and tie ensemble back fast enough to catch up to me, as I'm getting back into my beaten up '95 Accord. Before I can slam the door and speed off, he grabs my arm, "Jeremy, just talk to me. Look – I'm sorry. That was, that was really stupid. It didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anythin -,"

"How can you – I don't – what the hell is wrong with you?" I ask, trying to ignore the stupid tears that are beginning to well up in my eyes, "The closet gay thing I get – but this? You're going to try and tell me that you were going to sleep with -," I broke off trying to regain my composure, "And tell me it didn't mean anything?"

"It's not that way, Jeremy. You know I care about you. My dad's just -,"

"Did your dad take your pants off for you too?" I ask. "God damn it Tyler, what is going on with you?"

"I told Matt. I told Matt and he can't even look at me. Because you told me that he would underst-,"

"So you're doing this to what – get back at me?" I ask incredulously.

"This is your fault," he says, his voice quivering, "If it wasn't for you that night would've been just like all the ones before that – and this wouldn't be happening right now -,"

"Yeah, Tyler. I made you gay. That's what this is about, isn't it? What are you trying to – degayify yourself?"

"You weren't supposed to know."

"So you were just going to lie to me, then?"

"I don't want to be gay," Tyler hisses, "I can't."

"It's always about you isn't it? My feelings are just completely fucking irrelevant. Hell, I don't -,"

"You think I don't think about you? _All_ I think about is you. Every damn second, I'm like a hormonal teenage girl here. I don't – this isn't me. I'm Tyler fucking Lockwood. I've slept with half the girls in my grade, but you -," he stops to inhale deeply, "You did this to me."

"You think this is _easy_ for me? You think I wouldn't rather go back to how things were?" I whisper, my voice cracking, "Just forget it Ty. I'm done. It's done. Go back inside and do whatever the hell you want."

Tyler swears loudly, before I slam the door closed, and begin to drive. And I drive without knowing where I'm going, or why, I just know that I need to get away. I am buzzed; I can feel my senses starting to lull, and the watering in my eyes isn't helping the situation much either.

It is a combination of both of these, I guess, that makes it so I don't see the car heading for me in an alarmingly fast speed. I don't notice anything at all until it slams into the driver's side of my car, and a sharp pain shoots through my body.

Everything just goes black.

-

Sorry it took so long to update? Ugh, I caught some virus that was going around and threw up like 352525 times today. I'll try and update ASAP, please review! :)


	8. Enough

Your Tired Eyes **  
Chapter Seven: **Enough

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

I called Jeremy for what seemed like the twelfth time in a row, and caught his answering machine, "Hey. You've reached Jeremy, and either I'm not available or I _really _don't like you. Here comes the beep. You know what to do." I listened to the short beep and the automatic electronic voice before I flipped the phone closed as violently as I could and let out a frustrated yell. I was so fucking idiotic at all the worst times.

I had left the party about six minutes after Jeremy; my father had driven me so I'd run to the lake, hoping, _praying,_ that he was there, and willing to forgive me. But he wasn't. And he wasn't answering my calls. And he probably hated me.

Sighing I called him again, listening to the sound of his voice and then starting to leave a message, "Jeremy. Jeremy, I am so sorry. Okay? I know it doesn't mean a damn thing to you, but I just want you to know - I - I care about you a lot. And I was stupid. And drunk - and I know, I _know_ that doesn't mean shit, but I just...I slipped. And you deserve better and I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Please just call me back. Call me back, _please."_

I close the phone and sit down in the grass, allowing the images of Jeremy to flick through my mind. I look up, at the lake, which is dark under the sunless sky.

It is minutes, but it seems like hours, when I finally hear the ring of my cell phone. The screen lights up with the word, **Jeremy**, and my heart beat quickens. Sighing in relief I answer it. "Jeremy? Jeremy thank God -,"

"Tyler?" Matt's voice says, confused over the static of the phone.

"Matt? What the hell are you doing with -,"

"Sorry. Your name came up as Anonymous on his phone, I didn't - I didn't know -,"

"Why do you have Jeremy's phone?"

"Tyler - Jeremy...Jeremy's been in an accident."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The doctors...they say that his blood alcohol was a little up, but it wasn't his fault - the other driver -,"

"How is he?"

"He's - he's in a coma, man. It's pretty bad."

"Where is he?"

"I don't think that would be a good -,"

"Where the hell is he right now, Matt? Don't fuck with me."

"Mystic Falls Medical. He's in the neurology ward."

"I'll be there in twenty."

-

I run. Hard. This is my fault. This is obviously my fault, and there's no way I can spin it otherwise. Jeremy had trusted me. He'd trusted my lie, and then he'd stumbled upon me about to have sex with some half-wit who didn't make me feel a fraction of the way that he did. And now he was hurt. He was hurt and it was my fault, and I needed him to know how sorry I was.

I show up at the hospital out of breath, coughing slightly, and lean against the front desk, "What room is Jeremy Gilbert in?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Jeremy. Gilbert. Do you need me to spell it for you?" I asked, sarcastically, "J – that's a letter, e-r-e-m–,"

I'm cut off by Matt's voice, "Tyler!"

I turn around; look back at the receptionist and say, "Thank you," before walking away.

"I still don't think you should be here," Matt says, calmly, as I approach him.

"Are you homophobic now or are you just a complete ass?"

"You think I care that you're gay?" He scoffs, "You actually think I'm that big of an ass – look I know I freaked out earlier, but that was just because it was so damn sudden. You have to give me some time to take things in once in a while. We're friends. I'm not giving up on you because you changed your orientation."

"Then why the hell shouldn't I be here? I care about him, okay? I know it's hard for you or anyone else to believe, but I care about him. A lot. So just tell me where the hell his room is or I can go back to harassing the receptionist."

"His family is up there. Elena is up there, and their aunt is up there. They still think you guys hate each other. You don't think it's going to come off as suspicious if you're suddenly his best friend?"

"I don't think 'gay' is the first thing they're going to jump to."

"Tyler -,"

"I promised him that I would be there for him. This is my fault. I have to see him, Matt. I have to be there for him."

He nods, "I understand that, man, but – he doesn't need you right now, he's in a _coma_. Come to see him when his family leaves. Don't make a scene, Ty. I'll call when they leave."

"Fine," I hiss, "I'll be waiting outside."

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

"He's awake!" someone's voice shouts as my eyes open. The ceiling is white. I'm blinded momentarily by the bright lights that are then pointed at my eyes, and the voices of various others, including Elena and Jenna's, who are quickly told to leave.

"Don't try to sit up." a woman in a white coat says. "I'm Doctor Sanders. You were in a car accident. And you've fractured your spine. Part of brain was also damaged, causing slight internal bleeding, but you're stable now. Your spine will heal within eight weeks with intensive physical therapy. We're keeping you here for the next week or so, and then you will be transferred to a joint rehabilitation facility."

"Join-,"

"For your alcohol abuse problems, along with your spine injury."

"I don't have alcohol abuse problems."

"Do you have any idea how high your blood alcohol was?"

"No, but it was just a one time thing. I don't get drunk, I'm not -,"

"I'm afraid it's not a choice. Are you aware that it is illegal for a minor to consume alcohol?"

"Yes, but it -,"

"I'm sorry Jeremy. My word is final," Doctor Sanders says, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Your family will be in in a moment to see you."

Sighing I lie back in the hard hospital bed, pulling up the sheets, as Elena and Jenna pile in speaking at the same time of how irresponsible I had been and how I could have died.

"Nice seeing you too," I mutter, trying to sit up. Whimpering, I realize exactly how serious my condition is, and continue to lie defeated on the hospital bed, staring upwards as Elena and Jenna try to smother me with hugs and kisses.

-

It takes awhile but the doctors along with Matt coax Jenna and Elena into leaving me be, saying that I was stable for the night, and that they should go get their rest. When they finally agree, Matt slips into my room, and closes the door behind me.

"Sketchy much?" I ask raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he says approaching my bed, "Hey, uh, Tyler's waiting outside. Is it alright if he - I mean do you want to see him?"

I bite down on my bottom lip, my eyes scanning the ceiling as if I'll find an answer there. It's not like I hadn't thought about this for the last hour and a half. Tyler. Tyler lying to me. Tyler cheating on me. Tyler's lips. Tyler.

"Yeah," I whisper, "Yeah. I want to see him."

"I'll tell him," Matt says, nodding, and beginning to dial on his cell phone as he walks out of the room.

-

Tyler looks flustered, angry, and guilty when he walks in a good ten minutes later. His cheeks look pink, as if he's been standing outside for the last two hours, which I don't doubt. "Hey," he says, taking the seat next to the hospital bed, his lips quivering as he speaks. I'm surprised he hasn't had a nervous breakdown by now. "How - how are you?"

"I've been better," I reply.

"What're the doctors saying?"

"I have to go to a joint rehabilitation center. For my alcohol abuse problems, as well as my fractured spine."

"Look, Jeremy. This is all my fault, I -,"

"Don't."

"I didn't - what happened back there, it's -,"

"You suck at apologizing."

Tyler scoffs, "Yeah. I do."

Look away for a moment, I return my glance to him. Our eyes meet, and I feel an aching tug in my stomach, "So you were really going to screw the blond?"

"It's not like that, Jeremy."

"Right. You were just trying to cleanse your life of me."

"Jeremy. I know it was stupid okay? I _know_. I was stupid. And I am sorry. It's not gonna happen again."

"Yes it is."

"I'm not going to -,"

"Yes you are, Tyler. Because this is who you are. God, you are so stupid. Do you see me? Here in a fucking hospital bed, because you cheated on me. Because I felt like I needed to get drunk, and get into a car to get away from all the fucking pain you cause me. And now I have a fractured spine, and apparently I'm an alcoholic."

"I know it's my fault, okay?" Tyler says, leaning towards me, "You don't have to convince me of anything. I also know that I have _never_ cared about anybody like I care about you."

Tyler is not supposed to sentimental. He's supposed to be a jerk, and that's supposed to make it easy for me to dump him. But he's being nice, and that fact that being with me makes him nice, scares me a little. It's things like this that makes tears well up in my eyes. I look away.

Tyler seems to have memorized the look on my face before I started crying, and leaning over, his breath hot on my ears, he whispers my name, "Jeremy, I didn't mean for you to -,"

I turn my face to look at him, and latching one hand behind his head, I say, "Kiss me."

"I don't think -,"

"Don't think. Kiss," I almost demand. Tyler complies, his lips pressing against mine, his tongue breaking past a barrier of teeth and making it into my mouth. I hold him to me as long as I can before breaking apart from him. Tears slip from my eyes, and trailing down the palm he's placed against my cheek. This is harder than I'd thought it would be. Caressing his cheek with one thumb, I run my tongue over my lips, and then bite down on it again. "Now I need you to leave."

"I don't understand."

"We're not good for each other anymore, Tyler. I can't be with you anymore. What happened tonight - I don't need a repeat."

"I know, Jeremy, I -,"

"Let me finish," I say my dry voice cracking, and then turning into a coughing fit. Tyler grabs the bottle of water off his bedside, and tilts it into my mouth, watching tentatively as I drink. As he screws the cap on, I continue, "You need to leave."

"I'm not gonna hurt you again," he says, his tone getting more anxious, as he appears to comprehend what I'm saying.

I turn my head away from him, "It's hard - to let you go. But I need to - because...you make me so destructive. It's not your fault. But I don't need - I can't deal with it anymore. If I stay with you - you're gonna be the death of me, Ty."

"I made a mistake. Jeremy, please, don't -," Tyler says, standing up.

"Leave," I whisper, staring at him, the tears in my eyes threatening to spill over once again, "If you really care about me that way you say you do - you'll leave."

Tyler stands still, staring at me.

"I've had _enough_. Go home."

Shaking his head slightly, Tyler scoffs, "Screw you, Gilbert," he says, before he slams the door closed.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

Jeremy was such a mind fuck at times. I shouldn't be mad at him; I had no right to be mad at him. I wasn't stupid; I knew what I had done. What I had caused. He had every right to dump me – anyone else would've. But that's just it, I'd held him to such a higher standard than anyone else. Losing him was unthinkable. But I just had. And what I was going to do now, I had no idea. I just knew I wanted him back.

I _needed_ him back.

-

I hope this update was quick enough for you guys? I think it's been the fastest one so far. Sorry this chapter's a bit short; I just wanted to get this out there. _More drama to come_! Thanks to the outrageous response to the last chapter, and if you guys keep it coming, I'll update faster :) And thanks to everyone who wished me better; I am.

Happy Monday! (As if…)  
**Review, lovelies**!


	9. Moving On

Your Tired Eyes **  
Chapter Nine: **Moving On  
**  
A/N:** There's a link to a picture of Reid Ashton on my profile.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

It's the fourth week of my eight weeks of joint rehabilitation. In the mornings I take classes on the hazards of underage drinking, and in the afternoon I work with a middle aged, and balding physical therapist to heal my spine. It's not a fun place.

There are teens with severe alcohol and drug abuse problem scattered on just about every floor. Eating disorders are restricted to the third floor, while emotional problems are constrained to the second, as I am. I'm pretty sure I'm going to go crazy. That is, until Reid Ashton shows up.

He moves into the room across from me, and he looks like he walked out of an Abercrombie commercial. Yellow-blond hair covers part of his misty blue eyes. There is something defiant in his eyes. My own eyes trace over him, from beat-up Vans to a pair of loose skinny jeans, leading up to a Pink Floyd shirt. It's almost enough to distract from the livid red scars across his arms, and the fact that a large part of the right side of his face is bruised, yet half healed. He stares at me for a moment, as my fingers linger on my door-knob, and then turns, and disappears into his room, a canvas bag slung over his shoulder.

I miss Tyler. There is a vacant feeling in my chest that refuses to leave; and it's not enjoyable. He came to visit the second week here, I watched him as he walked in circles waiting his turn. When he is called, he makes a beeline for the door, and he doesn't come back.

-

I meet him while loitering outside of room 311, where my alcohol awareness class is supposed to take place; he walks by and says, "You waiting for something?"

"Class."

"It's in 245; they haven't used 311 since two months ago, when someone jumped out the window."

"How do you know that?" I ask my body relaxing.

"You think this is my first time here?" he asks flashing his arm at me. The scars are fading, slowly. "So, what're you in for?"

"I got angry, had a few drinks, got into my car, and someone slammed into me. So I have a fractured spine, and I'm stuck in this hell hole."

"Sucks," he says, sympathetically, "I got caught trying to buying beer. Again."

I laugh, "It's Jeremy. Gilbert."

"Reid Ashton," he says, extending his hand.

I shake it.

"So – you going to class?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not like I have anything better to do."

"We could skip," he suggests, a sly grin on his face.

**Tyler P.O.V.**

_One Week Later_

I lay sprawled across my bed, staring at the portrait of Jeremy I'd sketched months ago. I want to visit him, but I'm a coward, and I don't know what I'd say to him. Everything I'd wanted to say; I'd said. And it was enough. It wasn't going to be enough now, either.

So I didn't know what it was that made me get out of bed and drag myself into my car, for the second time in weeks, and drive to him.

I just know that I did.

-

"Jeremy Gilbert," I answer, when the receptionist asks me who I'm here to see.

"You're not going to leave again are you?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. I wince. I didn't expect her to remember me.

"Let's hope not," she answers herself, "He's in room 205. Second floor. Visiting hours end at seven, so that gives you an hour. Sign in here," she says turning a visitor's slip towards me.

Nervously I scribble _Tyler Lockwood_ in, and then head for the elevator. I make it my goal to walk as slowly as possible, so that I can think of something to say to him. Something other than 'I'm sorry'. But hell, I was sorry.

I make it to his room, and knock, biting down on my bottom lip. "One sec!" Jeremy says, I can hear his footsteps approaching, and then the door opens.

A blond sits on his bedside, eyeing me skeptically, as Jeremy says, "Tyler?"

"I -,"

"Oh – the boyfriend," the blond says, interrupting.

"You told him?" I ask, "How well do you even know that guy?"

"'That guy' is actually only my Indian name. It's Reid," he replies, leaning back on Jeremy's bed.

"Relax. He lives in a different district. Daddy's never going to know," Jeremy says, his voice edging on annoyance.

"Look – I didn't come here to start a fight."

"Really? You're doing a great job at that," he replies. "Why are you here, Ty?"

"Forget it; you've obviously _moved on_," I say, my voice scathing.

"Same old Lockwood," Jeremy says, shaking his head.

"I'm _trying_ here, Jeremy."

"Well let's just put that on the list of things you suck at. Apologizing. Trying. Having emotions."

"I apologized. I'm sorry. You know I'm sorry. You know how much I care about you. _You_ told _me_ to leave – I…I don't know what you expect from me."

"I don't expect anything for you."

"Can I talk to you alone, please, Jere?" I ask, using my term of endearment for him. Hoping it might sway him.

"Tyler. I can't," he says, and I can see the look in his eyes that tells me that he's not messing around

Sighing I say, "I miss you. I'm sorry. I care about you. That's all I can give you, Jeremy. That's all I have."

"It's not enough."

I nod, "Okay." I turn around and walk away.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

"That was interesting," Reid says, sitting up. Over the past week we'd come to know each other; well at least he'd come to know me. But I'd never been good at keeping secrets; probably because of my lack of concern for them. It wasn't his first time here, he'd been three times before, and this was his 'last warning'. Emotionally unstable due to problems that had arisen because of his orientation; he had resorted to self-mutilation at an early age, and the alcohol abuse had followed.

The rest was all a mystery to me – as it wasn't on his transcripts or psych reports, which he'd read out loud to me at great lengths. Despite his problems, Reid was a decent guy.

"You wanted to see him?" Reid says, raising an eyebrow.

I shake my head, "No."

"Well, he's pretty hot; I'll give you that. Albeit, he seems like a d-bag."

"That's Lockwood."

"So you're not thinking about giving him a second shot?" Reid asks, running a hand through his disarrayed blond hair.

"Jealous?" I ask, sending an amused smile his way.

Reid grins, "Well it's pretty obvious I won this round."

"Is it?"

Reid stands up, approaches me, lips lingering centimeters away. "You tell me."

Kissing Reid is weird. The feeling of euphoria which I get from Lockwood is absent, but that doesn't stop me from ravaging his lips. Hoping that if I pretend that I am okay, that I am over him, and if I move on, I will finally be able to stop seeing his face in my dreams.

So I kiss the blond, his fingers raveling in my too-long hair, while his other fingers dance along the hem of my jeans. I kiss him and I hate myself.

As he gets dangerously close to dipping his fingers lower than my waist, I break away, "I'm not – I'm not ready for that."

Reid nods, "If this is about Tyler -,"

"No. I just – I've been with two people my entire life, Reid. I just – I like you, and I don't want to rush things."

He nods.

-

_Five Weeks Later_

I've been home for two weeks. I spend most of my time lounging in front of the television, catching up on homework, and talking to Reid over the phone. I've been avoiding Lockwood, but he doesn't do me the courtesy of staying away. He's tried to approach me at least four times, each ending in a hushed screaming match.

Hell, I missed him.

It would be a lie to tell you I didn't spend a lot of my nights lying awake in bed wishing that he was next to me again.

But I could not go back there. He'd put me through enough. Tyler Lockwood breaking my heart would not be another stupid thing I let happen. Reid was safe. Reid I could trust.

Reid I would see in two days.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

I sit on the edge of the grass as I stare into the lake, trying to forget him. But I can't. I can't get his face out of my daydreams. His voice creeps up in my ears even when he's nowhere near me. The soft moans he'd let out when we had had sex echoed in my mind. I remembered the last time we'd been here together, where I had stared at Jeremy for a drawn out period before he'd interrupted me with an amused, _"What? I know I'm hot, but you're creeping me out."_

And I'd wanted to tell him that he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But I didn't. So now I was haunted by every single moment I had spent with him.

-

_Two Days Later_

I walk through the trees two days later, already slightly drunk. I've skipped school for most of the week, which my father has covered up with notes about a trip to go see my ailing grandmother, and a few punches in the face. But I'm not in the mood to take orders from him. Not in the mood to talk to anyone, really. I just want to sit by the lake and drink myself into bliss. I wince as I tree branch falls, inches away from me. This is getting to be tiresome, I think, as I step into the clearing.

I drink through five beers before I hear a rustling behind me. I wince, hoping it's not someone who could get me in trouble.

I turn around, my head feeling light, and see Jeremy stopping mid-step, the sleazy blond behind him, raising an eyebrow.

I scoff, loudly, "Really?" I say my voice loud.

Jeremy turns around, and when he does, I continue, "Here? In _our_ place. Wow. That's - never pegged you for being an insensitive dickwad. That was me right? That was _my_ problem."

"Have you been drinking?" he asks turning back around, his eyebrows furrowing together, in concern.

"Oh no," I say, shaking the nearly empty beer can, "You don't get to turn this on me."

"Tyler. You need to go home."

"Did he tell you we had sex here? We did. Several times," I hiss at the blond, who looks concerned.

"Tyler."

"Oh don't strain yourself," I say, "Lockwood's just fine."

It would be ironic, him trying to convince me to put the can down and go home. I recalled when the opposite had occurred, the first time Jeremy admitted he had feelings for me. It would be ironic, but at the time, I was too drunk to notice.

"I'm calling your dad," Jeremy says, pulling out his cell phone.

"Oh, go ahead. According to him I'm visiting my sick grandmother. I'll tell you – he's got no shame when it comes to reputation. My grandmother died four years ago. She got hit by a drunk driver coming home from work one day. I guess I have a bad track record, huh?"

Jeremy sighs, flips the phone closed, whispers an apology to the blond – whose name escapes me at the moment – and walks over to me, leaning against the grass. "Tyler. Let me take you home. You're going to hurt yourself."

I scoff, "How long have you been boning him?" I ask, gesturing towards the blond, "You know – for someone who is so fucking concerned about my well-being you don't seem to mind dangling him in front of me."

"What are you talking about?" Jeremy asks.

"I made one fucking mistake. I used to make a lot more, but you – you made me better. And you – you just gave up on me, Jeremy. You moved on after all that crap we went through. After …I know I was stupid. I know it. Just please, _please_ – I care about you Jeremy. Please."

He stares at me, a forlorn expression on his face. "You're drunk," he whispers, "I'm taking you home, Ty."

-

**I'm a jerk, who didn't update in a long time. I was kind of miffed about what to write about. The last episode definitely had some slashy undertones. YOU KNOW YOU SAW THEM; DON'T LIE. Thank you to everyone for the reviews, this fic has done better than I expected it to.**

**Please Review! :)**

_P.S. I don't know if any of you guys read my fic: Savior on my main account, but I've updated it if you'd like to read/review it. Cheerio, loves!_


	10. Can't Fight This Feeling

Your Tired Eyes**  
Chapter Ten:** Can't Fight This Feeling  
-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

It was my sound opinion that I had to stop getting drunk. I always did stupid shit when I was drunk. So, basically I did stupid shit all the time. Now was probably a bad time to do so though, as insulting the blond skank and blaming everything on Jeremy was  
probably not the best way to get him back.

"Are your parents home?" he asks, locking his eyes on mine.

I shake my head, "They're never home. Mom's – mom's out drinking. Dad went to some conference in Denver."

"Come on, Ty. Get up," Jeremy says. Jeremy may be taller than me, but his slender frame isn't enough to hoist me up, so he can't make me do anything. I get up anyways. Shakily, I stand up, wincing as the sun shines down a little brightly.

Jeremy wraps his arm around my waist, securing me as to avoid further injury, "Reid – I'm sorry. I'll drop you back off at my house, but I have to get Tyler home."

"Yeah, no problem," 'Reid' says, "You need help?"

"Don't touch me," I hiss at him.

He raises an eyebrow. "Whatever, dude."

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

I can't apologize enough to Reid as I dump him back at my house, before making a beeline for the Lockwood mansion. Tyler is pretty much completely out of it by now.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I ask him, as he leans against the car window. My old Accord had been totaled but Aunt Jenna was never one to stress responsibility and bought me another car from a used car dealership, a week previous.

"Mmph," Tyler says in response, sinking lower in the passenger seat.

"You are such a hypocrite. You know that? You are completely fucked up. I can't – it's not my job to take care of you Tyler. I have my own life. This is what you wanted. You wanted me to leave you alone, and now I'm trying to make a clean break and you're sitting in the fucking woods trying to drink up the quarterly stocks of Heineken."

"So – you're serious about this Reid guy?" he asks, looking up at me, his eyes glazed over.

"I like him – if that's what you're asking."

"You fuck him?" Tyler asks his face hard.

"It's none of your business," I reply, turning my eyes back to the long stretch of road ahead of me.

"So that's a yes," Tyler says, "Great."

"I don't want to do this again, Tyler," I say, as I park in front of his house. Unbuckling my belt, I get out of the car, and walk around, swinging the passenger door open, "Come on," I say, helping him get out of the car.

I help him up the stairs, and onto his bed, where he collapses on his side. He looks queasy, and I can't help but feel sympathetic towards him; I'd been here before, after all. But I'd had him, and Elena to nurse me out of it.

"I'm going to get you an aspirin," I say, "Medicine cabinet?"

"Bathroom," Tyler groans, wincing.

I walk down the far too luxurious hallway, into the well-lit bathroom. Shuffling through his medicine cabinet, I sift through the content: bandages, cotton balls, condoms, a box of tampons, and finally, aspirin. I grab it, pour two pills into my hands, and swing by the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. I flashback to first time I'd been here - "_Get that trash out of here_." - and run back up the stairs. Tyler's managed to vomit on both himself and his sheets by the time I get back to him. Coughing violently, he lets out a string of inaudible  
swear words.

"Sit up," I tell him. He does so, with a morbid expression of pain on his face. Trying not to think about all our previous sexual encounters, I pull off his sweater.

He looks up at me, "I'm not trying to seduce you," I tell him, "I'm just trying to – clean you."

He nods, slipping the sweater off. I try painstakingly not to notice his body. "Um…the bathroom. I think you should go there – in case…,"

"Right," Tyler says, standing up, and stumbling out the door. I watch him go.

Pulling the vomit-covered bed sheets off, I scavenge into Tyler's closet, find a clean shirt, and after dumping his old shirt and sheets into the washing machine, I walk into the bathroom. Tyler is leaning over the toilet coughing up the entire contents of his stomach. Leaning back, against the bathtub he swears under his breath. Sweat is trailing down his temple. He lets out a low groan, as I wet a towel in the sink. I run it across his forehead, trying to avoid eye contact with him.

"You should leave," he mutters.

"You're sick, Ty. I'm not leaving you."

"It's not your job to take care of me," he says, echoing my earlier words.

"Yeah, well, I'm doing it anyways," I reply, giving him a solemn look.

"I'm sorry," he says, as I wet the towel again.

"For what?" I ask my eyes on the tiled floor as I run the towel across his chest. He lets out a shudder as the cold water makes contact with his skin.

"For that night. For – for trying to get you out of my life. For blaming you."

"I don't want to have this conversation again," I tell him. "Um, here's – here's your shirt."

He takes it, slipping the black tee-shirt over his head, he gets up, flinching in pain for a moment, and then rinses his face in the sink.

I stare up at him for a moment, before standing up. "You should get to bed," I tell him.

"You're leaving." It isn't a question.

"Yeah. I need to get back to Reid, so…," I trail off.

"Why'd you do this, Jere?" Tyler asks, "You didn't have to. You could've left me at the front door. I could've taken care of myself."

"We're friends. I know you'd do the same for me."

"Friends, huh?" he asks, his usual disposition seeping back into him,

"How many of your friends have you slept with?"

"Tyler -,"

"You know, I wondered, for the longest time, why I was so caught up on you. I figured it was the whole 'gay' thing but…it was you. It was always you."

"What're you -,"

"What I did that night – with that blond, it was dumb. Fuck, I was so stupid, Jere. I was just afraid. This isn't about being gay. This was never about being gay. I liked you more than I'd ever…," he trails off, "I was scared."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Tyler rolls his eyes, "Do I need to spell it out for you? God, Gilbert, for someone who's so smart, I don't understand how you could be so fucking stupid."

"Look, if you're just going to insult me -,"

"I'm in love with you," Tyler says, his voice shaking.

All is silent for a moment. "I need to go," I tell him, the feeling of numbness taking over my body.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

I watch him as he walks down the stairs. I don't call after him. I don't know what I was I loved him, it's not like that would change things. It was stupid of me to say to him. What had I expected? For him to care? For someone to care?

No. I was Tyler Lockwood. And as _pre-teen emo-stage_ as it sounded, I would be surprised to find out that there was a single person on the planet who gave a fuck about me.

Screw this, I thought, I was going to sleep.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

I am barely there as I walk back through my door almost an hour later. Reid, who has been lounging quietly on my couch for the past sixty minutes or so stands up and starts walking, prepared to greet me. "Hey Jer -," he stops, mid-sentence, mid-_word _and looks at me, "What's wrong, man?"

"What?" I ask blinking rapidly, "Nothing. It's - I'm fine."

He cocks his head at me, a skeptical expression on his face, "Is something wrong with Tyler? He's not dead is he?"

I scoff, "No. He's uh, he's good."

"Did something happen?"

"He told me...he said that he loved me."

Reid is silent, apparently dumbfounded. After a moment of recollection he asks, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I - do you not want me anymore? I don't under-,"

"Jeremy. You're stunning. And make no mistake, I find you incredibly...wow, but," he stops here to exhale, "He told you that he loved you."

"He's still a jerk. I hate him."

"You don't really think that. If you really thought that you wouldn't have taken him home. "

"I know what I think."

Reid scoffs, and then leans in to kiss me. After a few moments, he breaks away, running his tongue over his lips, "Did you feel anything?"

"Wha-,"

"Stop answering my questions with questions, Jeremy. Did you feel anything?"

I stop, to give him a perplexed look, "Well?" he asks again.

"No."

"What the hell are you doing? What the hell are _you_ doing?"

"I don't - you want me to go back to him?"

Reid mutters a swear under his breath, "It's not that - sit down. I need to tell you something."

I comply, continuing to stare up at him in confusion. "I had a boyfriend before. His name was Adam, and he was the nicest person I have ever met. He loved me - he told me all the time. But it just so happens that I was a complete ass back then. I hurt him. A lot. I treated him like crap, Jeremy. I cheated on him, a hell of a lot, and I let him know it. He killed himself about a year back."

"Reid, I - ,"

"Don't. He - he taught me everything I know about love. And he also taught me that if you love someone you stick it out for them. He took a chance on me, and it was not a good idea because I wasn't a good person then. But Jeremy - you're a good person. And as douchey as Tyler may appear, I'm sure there's something there that you love. And you don't let the people you love go."

"He treated me like shit."

"Oh cut the crap, Jeremy."

"Excuse me?"

"You're scared, just like he was. You know who you want, and it's not me. You know how you feel, so don't sit around here because you're _scared._"

"You're saying I love him."

"Do you?" Reid asks, as he raises one dirty blond eyebrow.

I stare at him for a moment, "Thank you," I say, my voice barely audible. I give him a quick glance, and then run back out the door.

-

**So Reid wasn't so bad afterall :) This chapter might've seemed a little fast, but honestly, I just want the boys back together, even if it's only in my mind, haha. After I've finished this fic up, which might not be for awhile, I'll be writing a collection of one-shots, Jeremy/Tyler of course, using the alphabet challenge. **

**Please Review!**


	11. A Reason

Your Tired Eyes  
**Chapter Eleven: **A Reason

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

I park, badly, I might add, in front of the Lockwood mansion and then unsteadily, I run/walk to the front door. Pressing the buzzer, I lean against the railing to the stairs, anxious. It is dark outside, and I can hear the distinct sound of crickets in the silence.

After moments of waiting, the door opens, and Tyler holds the door open, "Jeremy?" he asks.

"Tyler. Hey, I -," I stop after I get a glance at the bottle of liquor in his hand, and shake my head, "Are you serious?"

"What?" he asks, squinting.

"Did you learn _nothing_ today? Where did you even – never mind," I say, grabbing the bottle from him, which earns me "Hey!"

Without waiting to be invited in, I walk into their kitchen, and dump the contents of the bottle down the sink.

"That's expensive man! What the hell?" Tyler protests.

"You know what else is expensive? Hospital bills, which I'm sure your parents are going to be paying a lot of when you get liver disease."

"Can you stop with the lec – wait, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out rendezvousing with the blond?"

I roll my eyes, as I throw the empty bottle into the trashcan, "Why are you drinking again, Tyler?" I ask turning to him.

"I'm thirsty," he says sarcastically, glaring at me, "You walked out on me; you're not allowed to judge."

I scoff. "Well it would've been nice if you were sober for this, but as you are apparently the one who should've gone to rehab, I'll just have to settle."

"Sober for what?" Tyler asks, shuffling through a cupboard of liquor, shifting past bottles in an apparent attempt to find something.

"_Tyler_," I say, firmly, closing the cupboard.

"Look Jeremy, I can do whatever the hell I wa-,"

"You're going to kill yourself."

"Why the hell do you even care?" he asks, his eyes boring holes into me.

I answer almost immeadiately, "Because I _fucking love _you, you idiot."

He is silent for a moment, and after intaking a sharp breath he says, "You're not just saying that to get me to stop drinking are you?"

I smile, and scoff, "No."

Tyler stares at me, his breathing soft, "I'm still going to kick your ass for dumping my whiskey," he tells me matter-of-factly.

"I missed you," and then I kiss him.

I can taste the aged whiskey on his mouth, but for once, I don't mind. One of Tyler's handss entangle in my hair as the other clutches my face, our lips moving against each other.

I break apart from him briefly, "I need you - not to...I need you to tell me the truth from now on."

"Yeah. You got it," he says, slightly breathless.

I am skeptical. "Look, Tyler...I never expected this. I mean, we hated eachother, for god's sake. I need things to be different. It can't - it can't go back to how it was."

"It won't. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Right." I say unconvinced. "I uh - I need to head back home. Jenna's expecting me."

"Stay with me."

"Tyler. I know we haven't had sex in while but -,"

"I don't want sex, Jere."

I raise an eyebrow, to which he rolls his eyes and says, "Okay, fine. I want sex, but - that's not it. I just want _you,_ Jeremy. I don't deserve you, and I know I've treated you like crap, but I can't - I can't... I need you to stay."

I stare at him, as he fumbles for the right words, his voice nervous and compromise. "I'll call Jenna."

Tyler watches me as I dial my home phone number. Running a hand through my now unruly hair, I talk into the answering machine, "Hey Aunt Jenna - I'm, uh, I'm staying at a friend's, so don't worry about me. I'll be at school tomorrow, and I'll be back home by tomorrow."

I hang up, and roll my eyes, which Tyler picks up on instantly.

"She's trying," he says. This isn't our first conversation about Jenna.

"She's going to ask me where I was when I get back home tomorrow. I think I'll tell her I was doing drugs in the cemetery."

"Sorry, I'm all out," he says.

"No shortage on the alcohol, though, I suppose," I say, cocking his head.

"I'm not even that drunk," Tyler protests.

"You smell like a whiskey cellar."

"This_ house_ is a whiskey cellar."

"You need to take a shower."

"Will you be joining me?" Tyler asks, raising an eyebrow.

I don't know how we make it up the stairs with our lips interlocked, and Tyler half-drunk, but we do.

"I wasn't joking about the shower thing," Tyler says, as he presses me against the wall outside the bathroom.

"You think I was?" I ask.

"Fucking love you," Tyler says, as we begin to rip each other's clothes off, and slip into the lukewarm shower naked. I make it a mission to trace my lips over every inch of skin possible, as his fingers cling to my wet hair. I've missed the taste of him, and I hope he doesn't notice my tears.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

Jeremy's head is resting on my chest when we wake up the next morning, among my blankets and discarded clothing. I don't dare move, I don't want to wake him, he looks too peaceful in his sleep, his eyelids flutter once in awhile, and he mumbles something incoherent before snuggling back into me. Tentatively, I run my fingers through his brown hair, to which he says, "You awake?" his voice scratchy.

"Yeah. For awhile now."

"Sorry," he says, moving his body up, trailing kisses along my sternum, and then moving up so that his eyes are on mine."How'd you sleep?"

"Better than I have in awhile," I admit, leaning over to catch his lips in a quick kiss, "Last night was -,"

"Do you remember it?" Jeremy asks, "_All _of it?"

"Most of it."

"So, you remember the -,"

"Yeah. I meant it."

"I'm sorry about the Reid thing. I was pushing it. I didn't - I never slept with 'im. I was trying to piss you off."

"Worked," I reply, staring up at the ceiling.

After a few minutes, Jeremy says, "What're you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about what you said, about changing? And that day. When we had that fight in the courtyard? And I - I lost it. I hurt you. And I shouldn't have."

"Tyler, don't."

"I was being an ass. And I hurt you. It's not going to happen again."

"Let's go back to sleep, huh?" Jeremy says, stifling a yawn behind his hand. I have a tugging feeling in my gut that tells me he doubts it.

"I mean it. I - I'm tired of not feeling anything, Jeremy. And it's stupid. It's stupid for me to be a jerk to the one person...," he trails off, "I've been waiting my entire life for a reason to give a damn. And you're it. I'm - I'm going to be an ass. It's who I am. I'm also going to love you the best I can."

Jeremy smiles, and finds my hand, intertwining our fingers together before falling back to a blissful sleep for the first time in a long time.

-

"So, when's your dad coming home?" Jeremy asks later, as he slips his jeans on. I lay on the bed, watching him tentatively; boxers slung low on my hips.

"Today, I think," I say.

"Where's your mom?" Jeremy asks, furrowing his brow.

"Oh, right. She's kind of an alcoholic. I apparently inherited the douchebag and drunk genes. She's probably sleeping it off at one of her friend's."

"How can you be so cool with that?" Jeremy asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I got used to it."

"You get used to your dad abusing you, too?" Jeremy asks.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you about that. It's not serious, Jere. He just likes to push me around sometimes."

Jeremy shakes his head, in obvious disagreement. "How do you put up with it?"

"Lots and lots of sex," I tell him, sitting up.

Jeremy glares at me, "Tyler."

I give in. "It's hard, I mean would I like to have a dad who gives a fuck, or a mom who's sober? Yeah, but I don't. It's okay," I tell him, "I have you." Seeing the look on his face, which is one that clearly states that it will not stop probing me, I say, "Hand me my jeans?"

"Yeah," Jeremy says, grabbing them off the floor, and giving them to me. Shoving my pants on, I look up at Jeremy, who's scrounging my floor for his sweater.

"Just wear one of mine," I tell him, "Closet's filled with crap."

Jeremy looks up at me, smirking, and says, "You're giving me one of your tee shirts?" he asks raising an eyebrow, "Someone's _whipped_."

I didn't disagree.

-

I let Jeremy drive me to school, since with my father around it'll pretty much be impossible for him to pick up his car later. One arm hanging out of the banged up car, I let the cool air run through my fingertips as I think about the last five months or so, and drastically everything has changed, as Jeremy goes on about how he hates limes. Vicki's death and our hook-up at the Haine's house seems so distant. All the hurt, confusion, angry sex, and arguments just seemed to fade away.

I tune back into Jeremy's voice soon enough to catch him continue his rant, "- and they're so obviously trying to be lemons. But will they ever turn yellow? No. They won't. So they need to stop. It's just ridiculous is all, I mean, why do they even exist? No reason. Hey, do people put limes in guacamole? Because that would explain why I don't like guacamole. I mean it's such a creepy name, too. Guacamole. It sounds like an STD for god's sake. Like chlamydia or -,"

"I think chlamydia's an STI, actually," I reply, bemused, as we pull into the school parking lot.

Jeremy smiles, "Of course_ you'd _know this."

"I wouldn't have to if you weren't constantly bashing vegetables."

Jeremy laughs, as we pull into the parking lot. "Lime's a fruit."

I roll my eyes, as I grab my bag from off the car floor, and push the door open, stepping out of the car. Jeremy follows suit, and says, "Oh crap, Elena," as I turn to ask him what he's talking about I see her half-sprinting towards us.

"Where were you yesterday?" she asks, frantically, "I was worried. Jenna was worried. We were worried."

Jeremy gives me an i-told-you-so look before saying, "I called."

"I didn't get a call."

"I left a message. On the answering machine. That's what they're for, right?"

"Oh. Well, you should've texted me! I thought you were out doing drugs or -,"

"I was at Tyler's," Jeremy cuts her off.

She stops, furrows her brow, and asks, "Since when are you two friends?"

"Since two days ago," he replies, "I'm going to be late for first period if you don't let me get to class."

"Oh. Sorry," she says, moving out of the way.

"See you later, Ty," he calls over his shoulder.

Elena gives me a confused look before returning to Stefan, who is standing by the steps waiting for her. Watching Jeremy walk up the main staircase wearing my vibrant blue sweater of mine that slightly too big for his lean frame. I smile.

-

**Ugh, sorry for the lapse in updating, last week was the last week in term three for me, and I've been struggling a bit, so I had to focus on schoolwork and such.**

**On another note, lots of drama in the next chapter as well. I was wondering if anyone wanted me to do a werewolf storyline as well, for Tyler, I'm a little fuzzy on the details but I think I could swing it. Review and tell me what you think? Thanks! :)**


	12. Everything

Your Tired Eyes **  
****Chapter Twelve: **Everything

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

Tyler is leaning against my car, waiting for his dad to show up, as he reads my history essay out loud. "President Herbert Hoover started numerous programs, all of which failed to reverse the downward spiral of the economy. It seemed that the Great Depression would never come to an end. In June of 1930, Congress approved the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act which raised tariffs on thousands of items. The intent of the Act was to encourage the purchase of American made product by increasing the cost of imported goods and -," Tyler cuts himself off and looks at me. "Do I really have to read this?"

"It's my term essay. I just wanna make sure I've got everything right."

"It's Saltzman. He's banging your aunt, he's going to give you an A anyways."

I wince, "Please, no references to my aunt's sexcapades."

"What's this even on?" Tyler asks, running a hand through his hair.

I stare at him, "How did you even pass ninth grade history?"

"I'm guessing this isn't on the War of 1812."

"The Great Depression?" I answer, raising an eyebrow, hoping this will ring a bell. "You're an idiot."

"It's not like you're dating me for my brain, okay?" Tyler says, seeming hurt.

I swear, seemingly unnoticed by Ty, who's staring at my paper.

"For your body, actually," I say going to stand next to him, and when he starts to protest, I cut him off, "I like your brain just the way it is."

He smiles, rolls his eyes and then starts to say something, but stops abruptly, the grin slipping away, "Mayor Lockwood's here," he says, his voice dark. "I'll call you later, Jere." I nod, and force my fingers to cling to the paper, so that I don't try and kiss him.

It's a lot harder than it looks.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

I close the door behind me, as I slip into the car. My father glares at me, before switching the car back to drive, "I'm a busy man, Tyler. I don't have time to do this."

"Sorry," I say trying to avoid a fight.

"Tell me again why you didn't have your car with you," he says, his voice condescending, as he backs out of the parking lot.

"Jeremy drove me to school."

"Because?"

"Because he's my friend, dad. Can we drop it?"

"Since when are you friends with trash?"

"Jeremy's not trash."

"You have terrible taste in friends," he comments.

I turn away, clenching my jaw in an effort to not say whatever smart aleck reply is on my tongue. It doesn't work, "About as bad as your taste in mistresses."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

He smirks, "Someone in this family has to get laid," he says, simply, as if this is a completely normal comment to make, before swerving, quickly to make his turn.

-

Things don't get extremely ugly until four days later, when my father gets my report card in the mail. I used to be able to hide it for a week or two, but he'd caught on, and being the mayor he'd insisted that the school mailed him my grade reports from now on. He's waiting for me when I get home.

"Three B's, and a D?" he says, almost as soon as I walk in.

I close my eyes momentarily, hoping this is one of my stupid dreams, before I open them, to see him advancing.

"Dad - dad, I'm sorry. It's - I'll do better."

His face is grim, "No. You'll do worse. You've been benched. Terrible grades. And - oh, of course, still no decent girlfriend to date. You really are trash. I can scarcely believe you're a Lockwood."

"Yeah, well; sorry to disappoint."

"And that tone again. At least you could act like you gave a damn."

"Just drop it, Dad."

"Drop it? Drop the fact that my son is a _complete effing failure_?!" he asks, almost yelling.

"What do you want from me? A written apology? How about you give me one? Dear Tyler, sorry I'm too busy screwing my secretary to give a fuck about you. Love, Dad."

And then without much warning he picks up the chair he was previous sitting on and throws it. He, apparently, has impeccable aim. It hits the arm I was trying to fend it off with as well as my head, which is currently throbbing. And then he comes at me, fists swinging.

This isn't going to end well.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

"Do you know how scared I was yesterday night?" Jenna asks me, her face contorted with concern and anger. She'd asked me to sit down on the couch, so she could yell at me, evidently.

"I left you a message."

"A vague message! That's all I get? A two second message?"

"I'm fine."

"But I didn't know that! You should've called should've told me where you were! Where were you?"

"I was at the Lockwood's."

"Since when do you even like Tyler Lockwood? Last I heard you were mortal enemies and now you're having sleepovers? What are you really doing with him, Jeremy? What - is he selling you drugs?" she asks, lowering her voice.

"For god's sake, Jenna, I'm better, okay? I know I hit a rough patch, but I don't drink anymore. I don't do drugs. And I don't get in trouble. Give me a break."

"Something's going on. I'm not stupid, Jeremy."

"Fine, Jenna. I was doing drugs in the cemetery. Is that what you wanted to hear? Tyler delivers my hits to me."

"Are you being sarcastic?" she asks, squinting.

"Thanks for the trust, Jenna. Means the fucking world to me."

"Jeremy-!"

But I don't want to hear anymore, so I simply leave, trying not to pay attention to Jenna's objections.

-

I texted Tyler about an hour ago, and he's still not here. I'm started to worry, wondering where he is, and if this is the right thing to do, I sit nervously along the edge of the grass, staring into the lake. I get up, ready to leave, just as he gets there.

"Well it took you long -," I get a good look at his face, and stop mid-sentence. The bruising on it is fresh, as if he's been punched repeatedly, and remembering that it is report card day, I realize what has happened. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, they're all pretty shallow. The D in calculus pissed him off though," Tyler shrugs. "You texted?"

"Yeah. I, uh - shit, I'm not even sure now is a good time, I mean -,"

"You wanna wait for my face to heal?" Tyler asks, raising an eyebrow, obviously amused

"Right," I say, and then, "Jenna's been bugging me about the other night. She still thinks I'm doing drugs."

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"She thinks you're my drug dealer."

"Oh. I can see how that would be a problem. So, is that it? That's why you wanted to see me?"

I look away from him, "I think we need to stop, Tyler," I say, trying to blink away tears.

He scoffs, "Are you serious?" his voice comes out breathless.

"Yeah."

"But we're finally together. We're doing - we're happy, Jeremy. I thought this was...this was what you wanted. I don't understand. What's wrong? What changed?"

"I just - I'm tired of half being with you Tyler. I deserve to be able to love you without terms and conditions. I'm tired of this."

"You think I'm not?"

"You made them. Not me. It's not - it's not what I signed up for."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'm _sorry. _Fuck's sake, Jeremy, don't do this."

"Stop apologizing to me, Tyler. Stop it. I get it, okay? I get it. You want us to be together, but God forbid your parents find out that you're in love with guy, right?"

"That's what this is about? Jeremy, I -,"

"I'm sorry, Ty. If you're not giving it everything, then I don't know why I should be."

"You're breaking up with me. Again."

"Do you love me?" I ask, my eyes not straying away from the ground.

"More than anything."

"Then tell your dad. Tell your dad, and then I promise you I will try as hard as I can to keep us together."

He is silent for a moment before he starts fumbling for words once again, "Look, I'm not sure about - anything. But I'm sure about you," Tyler pauses, his fingers running through his hair anxiously, "I'm sure about this. You're - you're my everything, Jeremy." He lets out a shuddering breath, "Please don't leave me."

"I'm sorry," I reply.

"Jere - Jere, I'm falling apart here. You can't - you're all that's holding me together right now," he says, and his voice is desperate now, I can hear the twinge in his voice that obviously tells me he's trying to hold back tears just as hard as I am, "Please. _Please_."

"I don't want to do this. But I can't - Jenna doesn't trust me. My sister doesn't trust me. You're all I have, and - what if we fall apart, Ty? I need something to fall back on, and they're not going to be there. And I'm not taking that chance. I care about you more than I care about myself, Tyler. And obviously more than you care about me. So I'm done with this."

"Jeremy."

"Just leave, Tyler. Leave. You obviously don't give a damn about me."

"What the fuck do you want me to say?" he half-shouts, "You're my fucking everything, Gilbert! I love you. I am in love with you. Fuck I can barely breathe when I'm not with you. I can barely -," he breaks off, "I need you. I need you. Please Jeremy. Don't ask me for this. Don't ask me for _this_."

"Bye Tyler," I reply, walking past him, trying to get away as soon as possible so I can sob in peace.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

I am numb.

-

-

-

-

Ugh, sorry for ending it on such a sad note. I hate myself a bit, as well. I thought it over long and hard, werewolf or not, and I decided that I don't want to take a chance at ruining what I've already created by adding the whole new storyline in it. Right now, human is good. I'm sorry to anyone I've disappointed! And I'm sorry for not updating for quite awhile, I'm a rather large ho. I've been stressing over grades and weight and other teenage things, so sorry again. I hope you enjoyed the chapter at least, and will review! :) I love you guys!


	13. What Love Feels Like

Your Tired Eyes **  
****Chapter Thirteen: **What Love Feels Like

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

I can be a douchebag too. I mean, I was 'King Jock' wasn't I? I was the asshole in this relationship, so why the fuck was I the one standing there feeling like my heart had just been ripped out? This is a complete reversal of our usual, and I don't know what to do anymore. So I stand at our spot by the lake and stare. And I think about who I used to be. And I think about how much I want to be able to tell Jeremy that it was just a joke. That he'd never meant a thing to me, and he was just another notch on my bedpost. Just another drunk chick to do and diss. But I can't.

And I find that hard to believe. I was never one for fairy tales. I didn't believe in love, or happy endings. I'd seen my parents, seen how their 'fairy tale marriage' had turned bad so quick. I'd promised myself that I wouldn't ever, ever, be anything like them. I wouldn't let myself get married, get tied down to some bitch I wouldn't even care about in a few years. Truth be told, I had hope for the first couple of girls, they were all nice until they weren't. Then I realized that they were never going to make me feel anymore happy or full than I would ever be. So I decided to get what pleasure I could. The one night stands and the casual sex did that for me. I didn't mind that I wasn't going to find my 'soul mate', or whatever that shit was, especially if these vapid, sad excuses for human beings were all that there was for me.

Jeremy was different. There was something in his smile, his laugh, that made me want to work for them. Made me feel like I was swimming in pure fucking euphoria every moment I'd spent with him. And yes, it had started as sex. (Mind blowingly good sex, mind you). But for once sex actually turned into something worthwhile. And for a moment, I thought I might just get my fairy tale.

And then I remembered myself. Remembered that fairy tales are best left to Disney, and that no one would ever care enough about me to stick around for the rough parts. No matter how much I wanted them to. And fuck, I wanted him to. Everything I had learned from those cheesy movies, everything I knew I should've held back on, I didn't. I didn't understand how he could walk away from me so easily while I begged him to stay. Told him I loved him and that he was everything I'd ever wanted. That he was everything, period. I didn't understand how I could've let myself make a complete idiot out of myself for some fifteen year old who didn't give two fucks.

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

I can't remember the last time I'd cried so much. (Probably when I found out my parents were dead, only I'd had Elena then, and I had nobody now). The tears just don't stop. I should've waited. Better yet, I shouldn't have said anything. I could've dealt with the sneaking around for longer. I didn't deserve it, but hell, isn't that what you do when you love someone? You make sacrifices. So now along with being alone and depressed I was selfish. And all this time I'd been telling Tyler how he wasn't willing to open up, or sacrifice, or some shit. I sounded like a broken record.

It was stupid of me; to break up with him. He was right. We were happy. I was happy for the first time in such a long time, and I had ruined it. Maybe I wanted too much, but then again, maybe it is Tyler who wants too much, in exchange for too little.

I walk home, the tears still streaming down my face, and remembering that I'd forgotten my keys, I have to buzz. Elena answers, a grin on her face. It fades quickly as she registers my emotions. "Jere, what -,"

I cut her off with a loud sob that seems to spill out of my throat. Everything hurts so much, and I just want it to go away. Elena quickly pulls me into a hug, as I sob, violently, almost, into her shoulder. My throat is raw by the time she gets me up to my room.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" she asks, her face concerned.

And I do. I want to tell her that I am gay. And that I'm in love with Tyler Lockwood. And that I screwed up the one good thing that is left. "I messed up, Elena. God I messed up so badly." I turn away, burying my face in my hands and sob.

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

"I'm glad you stopped hanging around the Gilbert kid," my father comments, as we eat dinner, almost a week later. I pick at the black olives in my salad, trying to avoid his eye contact.

"He doesn't want to see me anymore."

"Thinks he's too good for you, huh? Told you they were all trash."

"He's not trash. He's better than you are. He's better than you will ever be."

"Tyler! Don't speak to your father like that!" my mother interjects. I ignore her.

"He's not my father," I reply, putting my fork down.

"I raised your ungrateful little ass," he says, a scowl quickly appearing on his face.

"No, you didn't. Nannies raised me until I was eleven. Then I was on my own, to stay in this stupid fucking house, play football, and drink my emotions away. If that's what you want to take responsibility for, then you go right ahead."

"Really Tyler, do you want to get in a fight with your old man because of some comment about some piece of crap fifteen year old?"

"He's not some piece of crap. He cared about me. More than you ever have."

"What're you – in love with him?" he comments, letting out a laugh. My mother joins him, taking another drink of chardonnay.

"Yeah."

"Excuse me?" my mother says, setting down her glass.

And just like that everything becomes so perfectly clear. I would rather be with Jeremy, living out of my car for the rest of my life than live in some lavish mansion with and abusive father and an alcoholic mother, who didn't give a damn about my happiness.

"I'm gay."

"Tyler, that's not funny," my father says quickly, adjusting his tie.

"It's not a joke, Dad," I say staring at him intently, "I'm in love with him."

"Tyler. Stop it."

"We've been sleeping with each other for months. And maybe if you'd bothered to notice a damn thing I'd done rather than throw _chairs_ at me you would've noticed," I say standing up, my voice raised.

"Tyler – Tyler _please_," my mother says, her voice anxious. She gives me a look that quite plainly tells me to recant what I'd just said. To pretend it was a practical joke.

It is silent. My father's face has gone cold, and the fork that is loaded with a piece of white meat is frozen, half-way to his mouth. After a moment he says, "Get your crap and get the hell out of my house. I never want to see your face again."

I'd expected as much, but the actual happening threw me a little. "Ashamed of me, Dad?" I ask.

"Get. Out."

"What happened to 'you're my son, I raised you'?"

"I didn't raise a faggot."

"You didn't raise anyone_,_" I say.

"Tyler," my mother says, "Tyler, why are you doing this?"

I turn to my mother, who is staring at me. The edges of her eyes are wet, and I suspect she's holding back tears, "I'm not doing anything. I - I love him, Mom. He makes me happy. I hope one day you're happy too." It's the last thing I say to her before leaving. It's the last thing I say to her.

-

I grab whatever I can from my drawers, throwing them into a luggage case and a duffel before leaving. Throwing them haphazardly in the backseat of my car, I take off. And at first I think it'll be best for me to sleep in my car for the night, talk to Jeremy tomorrow, but I find I can't control myself. I drive to his house, recklessly almost, when I get there, I all but jump out of my car, and run to his front door. I'm hoping that he'll be alone, as he usually is with Elena out with Stefan, while Jenna is out with Alaric.

I have no such luck. Jenna answers the door, her face contorted in surprise, "Tyler? What are you doing here?"

"I need to see Jeremy."

"Listen, I'm not that stupid. You think you can just give him drugs while he lives with me and I won't notice?"

"Oh for god's - !" I cut myself off, before saying, "Where is he?"

"He's in his room. He won't come out. He cried for two days straight. I think the entire thing with his parents and Vicki - I think it finally got to him, and he doesn't need you, or anyone else making it worse."

"I can fix it. I can fix - _him_."

"I'm not letting you see him."

"I'm not a drug dealer, for god's sake!"

"Do you have any proof of that?"

"Look, I didn't come here to -,"

"Just let him," Elena says, stepping behind Jenna, "He can't do much more damage."

Jenna lets out a sigh, "Fine. Five minutes is all I'm giving you."

"Thank you," I say inclining my head towards Elena before rushing up the stairs. I walk down the dark hallway and push open Jeremy's door, trying to make as little noise as possible, as I close it behind me. He's lying on his side, facing opposite me. Locking the door, I walk towards him, and go to sit on the edge of the bed. He's silent, but the skin beneath his eyes is covered in partially dried tears. I push back his hair with my fingers, and wipe the streak of tears off. "I told them. My parents."

Jeremy lets out a shuddering breath, that seems to resonate through him. "Tyler," he chokes out the word, before he lets out a racking sob.

I run a hand through his hair comfortingly, "It's okay, baby. I'm here. I'm here."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Jere. It's okay."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. I love you so much, Tyler."

I reply by pressing my lips against his momentarily. "Kid, you have no idea."

So this is what love feels like.

-

And I'm going to leave you on happy, since I left you on miserable last time.  
They won't break up again, well not significantly, again, in this story, so you guys don't have to worry about this.  
I'm sad to say, this story is nearing its end and will probably be over in two to four chapters :(  
Thanks to everyone who's supported me thus far, I never expected this to get more than thirty reviews when I'd finished, and it's nearing one hundred and fifty, incomplete. I am so incredibly grateful, I can't even tell you. I feel writing this has helped me grow a lot as a writer, and I'd just like to say thank you, with all of my heart. Until next time,

**She Will Be Home**


	14. Home

Your Tired Eyes **  
****Chapter Fourteen: **Home

-

**Tyler P.O.V.**

"We're a fucked up couple," I tell him, moments later, as he lay sprawled across the bed, his head on my chest.

"No kidding," he says sighing. I can feel the last remnants of his sobs reverberating through his body.

"Jeremy."

"Yeah?"

"Jenna's going to be up here in a bit," I tell him, pressing my lips against his once again, "We should -,"

"Mmph," he says in response, his hands fisting around the cloth surrounded by arms, as he brings himself down against me, his mouth catching mine.

"Jere," I say, solidly, "I'm not one to pass up sex, but terrible timing."

"I know." he sighs, lying back down. "Oh," he says, sitting up, "What did your parents say?"

And I want to lie to him, because he is so young, and he doesn't need to be troubled by my family's lack of empathy. I turn away from him, and sigh, standing up. Jeremy props himself up, so he is sitting straight up, and waits, anxiously, for me to speak.

"They kicked me out."

"They kicked you out." It's not a question, but saying it strips away all the color from his face.

"Jeremy. I knew they would. I knew what I was getting into."

"But you - you did it for me. You - you_ knew_, they would? You left your house for me? Your family?"

"It's not a big deal."

"I'm not worth it, Ty," Jeremy says, his eyes watering. "I can't -,"

I cut him off, "You have a severe lack of self worth, you know that, Gilbert? _You are all that matters to me_, and shit, it scares the living fuck out of me, Jere. But I love you. And I'll do whatever it takes to prove that to you."

"It was your home."

"It was my house. You're the only thing that feels like home to me."

Jeremy sniffs, his voice watery, and swipes at his eyes, letting out a curse word, "You shouldn't have...I don't -," he stops to kiss me, his fingers gripping the back of my neck. "I love you, Tyler Lockwood."

"Yeah, well, I try," I reply, pushing back his hair. He sits down on the edge of his bed, and pats the space next to him.

I sit down. "I heard you'd been crying. Was that about your parents or -,"

"I just - I don't know. You kind of hold me together, Ty. I don't know what I'd do if...," he trails off. "How'd you manage to get in here anyhow? Jenna seemed to think the entire thing was your fault."

"Elena convinced her. Did you tell her, or -,"

"I tried to. All I could get out was your name."

"So they don't know."

"Will you – just stand there with me, when I tell them, okay?"

-

Jeremy fidgets with the hem of his shirt, his eyes cast downwards. Elena, Jenna, and Stefan are seated on the couch, waiting for him to say something. After a few minutes of silence, Jenna coughs, loudly, which earns her a glare from Elena.

"What?" she asks, "We've been sitting here for six minutes."

Elena rolls her eyes, "Jeremy will tell us when he wants to tell us."

"All I'm saying is-,"

"I'm gay," he blurts.

"Ditto," I say helpfully.

Elena's the first to speak, after moments of silence, "So…you two - ?"

"Yep. 'Bout six months."

"Six months? How could I not notice that? I'm a failure. I'm a failure of a parent. They should give me the worst parent ever award. Only they don't give presents to fail -,"

"Jenna," Elena says, her hand grasping her shoulder, "Calm."

"Well aren't you surprised?"

She shrugs, "I had a suspicion."

"It's the hair," I tell Jeremy, mockingly.

"At least I don't have _The Climb _on my iPod."

"That was a secret!"

Elena giggles. Jenna, still in shock, asks, "So - why did you chose now to come out? I mean, not that you shouldn't have, but -,"

"Tyler just told his parents. They kicked him out, and he's got nowhere to go."

I roll my eyes. Honestly, what does he expect? "Jere, it's fine, I can stay in the truck," I tell him in an undertone.

"You're not staying in a truck," he hisses at me.

"There's the woods as well."

"Oh for god's -,"

"We have - a guest room," Jenna says, gaining her composure once again, "You could stay until you figure things out."

"That's not necessary."

"_Tyler_," Jeremy almost growls the word, as he glares at me.

"I don't think Jeremy's going to take no for an answer. We'll lay down some ground rules later, just - everyone should sleep now."

-

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

Tyler gets a job at The Mystic Grill, working ridiculous, long, hours. He's calculated that if he continues on this route, he will be able to rent an apartment on the shadier side of town in about two months. I sit at the counter and do my homework most days, as he waits and cleans tables, and I wish I hadn't fucked his life over so badly.

As I'm trying to decipher my Algebra 2 homework, Tyler takes the stool next to me. "I'm on my break."

"Cool. So you wanna make out in the backroom or do you wanna grope me here?"

Tyler rolls his eyes, "Look - I know we haven't spent any time together lately, but shit, I'm busy, Jere."

"Really? I wasn't aware."

"How else am I supposed to get out of your guest room?"

"Why are you in such a hurry to leave?"

"I'm not going to take advantage of your aunt's hospitality."

"Why don't you just admit that you're embarrassed of me."

He scoffs. "I'm pretty sure you're the one thing I'm not embarrassed of, at the moment." Tyler's hand finds the back of my neck, and his lips find mine, seemingly devouring my mouth for a few seconds, before breaking apart from me. He kisses me quickly, on my cheek, and says, "I love you, kid. Don't forget it. But I have to work, so, I'll see you at home, huh? We'll watch _Scream _or something, huh?"

And it's one of those moments where everything just seems to click together. Tyler has, quite literally, given up everything for me, and I feel like a jackass for being upset about him for it. "Scream. Sure."

**-**

I lie on Tyler's lap, barely conscious as _Underworld _plays on the screen. Tyler snorts every time someone gets hurt, but I get used to it. "Okay. Question. What's up with the sexual tension? I mean, if you wanna fuck the werewolf dude, fuck him."

"Wise words, by Tyler Lockwood," I mutter, smirking.

Tyler rolls his eyes, "She could always kill him after she fucks him. It's an option."

"Is it just me, or do you have sex on the brain?"

"I'm horny and seventeen. Get used to it."

"You should put that in a Craig's list ad."

Tyler laughs, "Nah. That's what I have you for," he says, leaning down to kiss me.

"I'm touched," I say, yawning loudly.

"Do you want me to take you to your bed?" Tyler asks, furrowing his brows. "You look tired."

"No. I'm sleeping here. With you."

"I don't imagine it's too comfortable. Are you sure you don't want me to -,"

"I want to wake up next to you._"_

"You just wanna grope me in my sleep."

"That too."

Tyler smirks, and as I drift asleep, his fingers in my hair, I realize that home truly is where the heart is.

**-**

So this chapter was boring, and short, and I'm sorry D:  
There's going to be an actual part of the plotline /surprise in the next chapter, I swear!

Please review darlings :)


	15. Trust

Your Tired Eyes  
**Chapter Fifteen:** Trust

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

I don't usually take much time to appreciate things. I don't go to church, and I don't believe in some 'higher power'. I'd never been particularly religious before, but something about losing both of your parents makes you think that God doesn't give a shit about you. Maybe it's all cynical shit, and maybe it's just a phase, but for a long time it had been a reality. I was starting to think that if there was a higher power, he liked to fuck with your mind. Losing my parents, then losing Vick, and then falling in love with Tyler Lockwood. The pattern didn't make much sense, and I didn't like thinking about the same thing for too long, but in the end I resolved to appreciate what I had when I could. So, sleeping, with Tyler's arm, laying nonchalantly around me, I thanked whatever was up there for giving me something.

"You're cute when you're sleeping," Tyler observes, groggily, breaking through my mess of thoughts.

"So I'm not cute the rest of the time?" I ask, turning around to face him.

Tyler wears bed-head well, I notice. Though, he looks good in everything. He rolls his eyes. "You would be if you cut your hair."

"Ass," I mutter, running my fingers through my hair, which admittedly, had grown a tad too long.

"Yeah, well, I'm your ass. So deal."

"Gladly," I say kissing him quickly, "So, Aunt Jenna didn't come here in the middle of the night and try to drag me out?"

"She did. I told her that we weren't having sex tonight though. And to watch out for Thursday."

"You're terrible."

He shrugs, fingers working their way through my hair.

"I've been thinking about working at the Grill," I say

"Really?" he asks, leaning back against a pillow, "You should just concentrate on your grades, Jere, it's no big deal."

"I miss seeing you all the time. And you're usually pissed by the time you get home."

He nods, and then grins, apparently realizing something, "Great. Blowjob during break?"

"Fuck you, Tyler."

"That too."

Tyler grins, as he watches me wipe up spilled apple juice, and I wonder if he has some weird bus-boy fetish. "On your hands and knees, huh, Jeremy? It's a good position for you."

"Yeah, keep smiling Ty, you're not getting any for the rest of the week."

"Oh come on! It was a joke. And there's no way you can resist this for a week."

I snort, "You're an idiot."

"Yeah; but I'm hot."

I'm about to agree, and tell him that he is nonetheless, an idiot, when we're interrupted.

"Tyler!" Joel, the on-call supervisor yells, "Kelly's out. I need you to take orders."

"Are you serious?" he asks, glaring at Joel. Tyler's worked over-time three times this week so far, and he isn't pleased with out supervisor, who mostly sits in the back and watches television.

"No, Tyler. I'm joking. Do you wanna get paid or not? Start at table three," he yells, throwing a notebook at him.

"I hate him. And I hate table three. I'm going to spit in their food."

"You're gonna get fired."

"Nah. But Kelly might."

**Tyler P.O.V.**

As luck had it, table three was sporting some blond girl who gave me a blowjob once - her name started with like a C, or a K, I couldn't quite remember, and some kid off the JV Football team, who I'd thrown a Gatorade at once. Unfortunately, his catching skills weren't very good, and I'd ended up hitting him in the head. "Can I take your order?" I asked, pen poised over paper.

"Yeah, what do you have?" he asks.

I roll my eyes, "Did you read the menu?"

"Oh, no. Maybe I should do that."

"_Maybe_. Want me to come back later?"

"No. I'll figure it out in one sec. Taylor, you order."

Oh, T, was I off. As I stood wondering if the Gatorade to the head had done more damage than I had thought, Taylor flicked through the menu. "I'll have the salad."

"Great. What kind?"

"Which one has less calories?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm not pyramid dot gov."

"Is that a band?"

I suppressed the urge to ask her if she knew what a computer was when she said, "I'll have the green salad."

"Great," I say through gritted teeth, "And you?"

"I'll have the pasta primavera with chicken."

"_Great_," I repeat, moving onto the next table.

Table four is also sporting familiar faces, both equally shocked to see me. "Hello, my name is Tyler, and I'll be your server today. Do you want to disinherit your son today, or would you like to throw furniture at him?"

"Don't pull this, Ty. I swear to God -," my _father _starts.

"You're gonna do what, Mayor Lockwood?" I ask, clenching my jaw.

"Tyler."

"Oh, hey, Sherry. Didn't see you there," I ask turning to his secretary, "Tell me, does my mother know you guys are fucking, or is that still a secret?"

"That's enough," he presses.

"I think I'll be the judge of that," turning back to her, "Did you know I was gay? Good old dad doesn't want anyone to find out, but I figure -,"

"Ty," his voice is soft, as his fingers grasp my shoulder, "Ty, it's okay. I'll take this table. Don't do anything stupid. Please," I turn to look at him. Jeremy is concerned, he worries too much, I'm not stupid enough to get into a fist-fight with the mayor in public.

"Jeremy, I don't need you to -,"

"You have to trust me, Ty."

I nod, and turn away from them. He mouths a thanks at me, while I walk into the employee bathroom.

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

"What do you want?" I ask, impatiently.

"I want you to stop corrupting my son."

I scoff. "Sorry. No can do. Are you going to order? If you don't order you have to leave."

"I'll have the steak. Medium-rare. Sherry will have the same. And a large coke," I turn to leave when he says, "He was completely fine until he met you. You realize that, don't you?"

"Tyler has a lot of problems. And 'gay'? It isn't one of them."

"I beg to differ."

"You're disgusting. You know that? He's your son. He's your _son. _How can you do this to him? How do you abandon your flesh and blood over something like this?"

"I don't expect you to understand."

"I don't. Because I love him, Mr. Lockwood. I love him, and I don't understand how anyone could claim to love someone, and then throw them out for loving someone else."

"Do you have any idea what having a gay son with do to my reputation? The one I built on morals and fundamental human properties?"

"This is about your re-election?" I ask, staring at him. "I hope you choke on your steak."

"What are you doing?" Tyler asks, taking the seat next to me, at the kitchen table.

"Research."

"'Nother history essay?"

"No. I'm researching you."

"What?" he asks, glancing at the screen of the laptop. "You're on my grandparent's memorial website?"

"Yeah. Your dad may have kicked you out, but your grandparents loved you, and they left you an enormous trust-fund." I turn the screen towards him, "Second line. _The amount of $2,000,000 to go to Tyler Lockwood, son of Richard and Carol Lockwood on the occurrence of his 21st birthday or on prior emancipation."_

"Two mill?" Tyler asks, his eyebrows furrowing, his voice smothering incredulity, "My dad never - he was going to keep it," he realizes. "Bastard."

"Probably. Your grandparents gave him the rest of it, about 15 million. But according to the will you'd have to sign off on your part. I figure he probably planned on forging it. It wouldn't pull any red flags because he's the mayor."

"I'm don't turn 21 for another four years. What was the other bit? About 'prior emancipation'?"

"I did some digging. If you're legally declared an adult before your 21st birthday, the money goes to you."

"I have to get emancipated." Tyler swears, "My dad's never gonna sign off on it."

"Unless we make him."

"How are we going to -,"

"We need leverage."

"What are you thinking?"

"Look, the only reason he kicked you out was because he thought he wasn't going to win the re-election. It's in three months. I don't think anyone in this town is so bigoted that they'd vote against him for having a gay son. The affair with the secretary might do it though."

"You're amazing."

"You're not so bad yourself."

Tyler breaks into a grin, and then leans over to kiss me, full on. When he breaks away, which seems to be hours later, he says, "You're the only thing I've ever loved."

**I'm terrible. I'm sorry for not updating for so long. WRITER'S BLOCK FTL. The next chapter's going to be the last (cue aww's here), but I've already started working on another Tyler/Jeremy fic, called ****_Enough_**** which will involve the werewolf aspect as well as a Damon/OC, which is slash. If you haven't read them already, they can be found on my page. Please read and review them if you are interested. Thanks again, to everyone who's loyally continued reading this. It means a lot to me :) **


	16. The End

**Your Tired Eyes  
**The End

* * *

A/N: OH MY GOD. I AM SO STUPID. I AM A STUPID WHORE. I just.. I'M SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING. UGH, I AM TERRIBLE. LEAVE ME HATE MAIL IF YOU MUST.

* * *

**Jeremy P.O.V.**

Four achingly long days later, when I have the emancipation papers drawn up, Tyler gets into my car, and we drive to his former house. It's particularly cold, the sky enshrouded with magnificent, grey, storm clouds. I ignore the tremors that run down my spine, and act like this happens everyday. But it's different; everything is drastically different. The way things had started out - mistake after mistake, denial, hiding, acceptance. Acceptance. Tyler Lockwood would forever be embossed into my heart, as if he'd engraved very essence into me. **  
**

"And he's home?" I ask, again, parking the car, sloppily, outside the Lockwood Mansion.

"Yeah," he says, bitterly, "It's Founder's Day. He has to act like we resemble a family."

"Hey," I say, catching the dismal tone in his voice, "Don't worry. It's going to be okay. I love you. It's not going to change," my voice is light, (I'm becoming good at hiding anxiety).

His soft gaze withers as he nods, "I trust you."

Tyler guides me through the mostly empty house until he reaches a large door, with two large faded gold handles, and gives me one long glance before he pulls it open.

His father looks up, dressed in his usual suit-and-tie, and his expression quickly changes from bored to surprised. "Tyler - what are you doing here?"

Tyler looks like he's been paralyzed. He hadn't expected this, and neither had I. I allow my fingers to snake their way into his grasp, and squeeze his calloused grip. "I know about the trust fund. You were going to keep it?"

Mr. Lockwood smirks, "It's for Tyler Lockwood. You stopped being a Lockwood when you chose that _thing _-," he tosses me a scornful glance, "Over your family."

"I didn't _choose _anything."

Mayor Lockwood's face quickly twists into a grimace, "What's the paper for? Field trip?"

"Emancipation."

He scoffs, "What makes you think I'd sign that?"

"You want your re-election, right? Mystic Falls wants a mayor who believes in the morals he enforces. Finding out that you've been boning your secretary behind your alcoholic wife's back, while slapping around your gay son isn't going to help you."

"You're going to exploit your own father?"

"No. But I will exploit you. Sign the paper and you can pretend that Tyler Lockwood never existed."

He glares at me, for a long moment. "I hope you know you're letting him throw his future away. For what - a pathetic teen romance that's going to last for another three weeks?"

"Don't talk to him. Don't even look at him. Sign the paper, Dad. Sign the fucking paper."

"I sign this," he says, voice quivering, "And I never see you again. _Ever._"

"Count on it."

**Three Years Later**

Jeremy stands in front of the mirror that he's nearly too tall for and adjusts the cap. "I don't think I can do this."

"Jere. I did it two years ago. You'll be fine. It'll be fine. Just stop freaking out."

"This gown is stupid. Why do we have to wear this stupid gown?"

"The gown is stupid, but your graduation isn't. Stop worrying," Tyler says, "I took a day off of college for this. Your ass is going."

"Why does it -,"

"You are going."

Jeremy sighs, "I have to send in my financial crap to Tufts today."

"It'll be fine. You're marrying a Lockwood in six weeks. Don't worry about it. I'm kind of loaded."

"Ugh. What's the point of being gay if I have to have a wedding?"

"Because I want an excuse for staying inside for a week and doing nothing but fucking the hell out of you."

"We don't need a wedding to do that."

"Yeah, but it makes us seem less like nymphomaniacs."

**Two Years Later: Boston, Massachusetts  
**

**Tyler P.O.V.**

Jeremy always smells like lasagna.

When I was a kid I would eat lasagna and believe that if you believed hard enough and wanted it hard enough you could close your fist around faith and feel the eternal love and joy and contentment of God and happiness in every orifice of your body. For a long moment of time I lost belief in anything, lost faith in anything. My theories shrunk down to: Live and die. That's what life was. It's weird, it's really fucking weird how people can change you so drastically. People you've written off as irrelevant to your oh-so-superior existence. We find love in the oddest places, buried in the hearts of fifteen years old's we've punched in the face a good number of times, and in deities we'd forgotten we'd once had belief in.

* * *

Jeremy blinks awake moments after I've taken a seat on the couch and started typing up my closing argument. "Whatchu doing?"

"Work. Go to sleep baby."

Jeremy gets up and drags his body next to mine, leaning against my body, as his lips trails against my left cheek. "I'm going to get anything done if you keep that up."

Jeremy smiles, "Coffee?"

"Go to sleep. Really. I can handle this."

"I know you can. But I happen to really love you, so I'm going to be an awesome husband and make you coffee."

I watch after him, as he walks into the kitchen, bare feet and gingham pajamas. This is something you can get used to very easily. Waking up next to someone who loves you as much as you love them, someone who gives you chance after chance, and puts up with your bullshit. People like to pretend that it's about soul mates and perfect matches and all that jazz. It's not. It's hard, bone to knuckle, tears, fists - it's _life_. It's falling asleep next to someone and waking up to see smudgy, sleep-ridden, eyes looking at you - happy or sad, in dire need of a shower, a haircut, a breath mint - and never wanting to do anything but gaze into their beautiful, tired, eyes.

* * *

Thank you to everyone for the reviews and support during my 9348209472908 year long hiatus. This was short, but it was exactly how I had always planned on ending it, and I'd had that last paragraph since I'd started writing.

I really extremely sorry for not posting for such a long time, but I'm kind of obsessed with my grades and education and junk. My finals end on Monday, and I plan on finishing 'Enough' and I'm thinking of writing an Alaric/OMC or Damon/OMC, y/y? I have to go to a program for Advanced Placement Biology from Tuesday to Friday of next week and some time in August, but my summer looks pretty free other than that. I just want to thank everyone who's been along the whole time, and all the new readers who find this as well. I really appreciate everyone so much more than I can express. Thank you to The Fray for being a continuing inspiration to my everyday writings, and thank you to anyone who has taken a minute or two out of their lives to tell me what they think of my writing, really, _thank you_.


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